


Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme

by WindySuspirations



Series: Oakmoss and Elderflower [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cullen Smut, Cullenlingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Healers, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Massage, Pining, Slow Build, Taking Care Of Cullen, Unrequited Love, i don't know what I am doing, lots of kisses, lots of shirtless cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-11-22 08:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindySuspirations/pseuds/WindySuspirations
Summary: A healer is assigned to treat the Commander's lyrium withdrawal symptoms. Can she fight her attraction to him, or is she destined for a broken heart?Now with art by the talentedElena





	1. Tracing of Sparrow on Snow-crested Brown

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my latest longish-fic. 
> 
> The idea for this fic started with a couple of one-shots about a headcanon based on a snippet of multi-player dialog about how Cullen smells like oakmoss and elderflower and represents my attempt at a multi-chaptered story featuring an original non-inquisitor character. I'll be honest here and say that I have never attempted anything this ambitious, and I have no idea what in Thedas I am doing here. This may end up sucking, and even if it doesn't, it may not generate much interest, but the characters called to me and begged me to tell it, so here it is.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please, let me know in the comments what you think. Kudos are also welcome!

 The Commander’s tent was slightly larger than the other tents in the army’s camp and set off a little from the rows of those housing the troops. Healer Eala Arnal brushed her clammy hands along the sides of her skirts as she walked up to the tent’s entrance.

It was twenty till the hour; she was a little early. Her eyes skittered from the tent flaps to the frozen surface of the lake and back again, tugging her the collar of her cloak tighter around her neck against the chill evening wind. Should she call out? She decided she had to: it was far too cold for her to stand about for the next twenty minutes.

“Commander, “ she called out, and thank the Maker, her voice didn’t quaver.” Tis, Healer Eala come for your treatment.”

“Enter,” came a deep and authoritative voice from within.

As she entered the tent, she noticed the Commander sitting at his desk, and he looked more tired than he had earlier in the day when she’d seen him at the Healers’ Cabin. The purplish circles around his eyes appeared darker, and the lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes were scored more deeply.  He tossed the quill he was holding on his desk and slowly got up from his chair, pulling a grimace as he rolled his shoulders and arched his back into his hand. He smiled at her as he came around to the front of his desk.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, perching on the edge of his desk with a little grunt. He pointed to a cloak stand behind her that stood beside his armor stand that now held his gleaming armor, each piece settled neatly in its place. “You can hang your cloak over there. Please make yourself comfortable.”

She nodded, and after removing her cloak and hanging it up on the stand, she came to stand before him her hands clasped in front of her as she waited for his direction. When she met his gaze, he smiled again, just a small lifting of the corners of his lips, really, but a genuine warmth lit his golden eyes and softened the severity of his features. Maker, he was even more beautiful than she had thought when she had seen him earlier.

“I suppose,” he began, running one thumb over his left eyebrow, “that we should begin with me telling you why I need you and what I require, yes?”

“Yes, Ser.”

The Commander gave a short chuckle. “Eala — may I call you that?” At her nod, he continued,” there’s no need to stand on ceremony in here. My name is Cullen; I hope you will use it.”

“Oh, Ser, I can’t possibly do that,” she averred, twisting her hands together, color flushing her cheeks. Her eyes trailed over his body, clad now in just his breeches and a shirt, the collar unlaced and falling open over his chest. The light from the candles and the braziers burnished his skin and limined his hair in pale gold. She felt unreasonably warm, given the temperature outside, and her heart fluttered in her chest.

No, it would not do to become familiar with the Commander.  Best to keep it professional. Not that he would want anything else, at least not with her.

One honey colored eyebrow quirked upward, but, thankfully,  he let the subject drop. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he started to talk.

“I, um,  have a health condition that causes me severe headaches, muscle spasms, assorted body aches, and terrible pains in my joints. “  He reached behind him for a small glass jar of white cream and held it out to her. She took it, and he continued “that is a preparation of oakmoss and elderflower; the apothecary in Kirkwall prepared it for me. You know what it does, yes?”

“Yes, Ser, it’s a liniment for easing swelling and provides pain relief. “ She had some experience in making the preparation herself.  Palming the jar in her hand, she made a note of it in her head. She would check the stores tomorrow to see if they had the ingredients on hand.

He nodded his head. “I — Yes.  I would like you to —ah —“ His skin flushed pink from the tops of his ears down to his chest, and he averted his eyes. “To rub this into my neck, back, and shoulders twice daily. I just need some relief so I can work — it has been most difficult of late.”

At this display of unease, all her apprehension fled her. Handsome or not, he was her patient, and he needed her care. Now, her eyes roved over his form with a clinical eye, noting the guarded way he held himself and decided that he had to be in a great deal of pain.

“Right, then, Commander. Let’s get started. Shall I wait outside while you get undressed and get into bed?” But he was already standing up and pulling his shirt over his head, and his hands were working the laces on his breeches.”Oh, Maker!”  She turned away, blushing herself now.

“Maker, please forgive my rudeness, Eala! I, um, just assumed you — that you wouldn’t mind,” he said from behind her.

“It’s fine, Commander! Please don’t trouble yourself about it. “  

She stood there, biting her lower lip and facing the tent flaps as she waited for him to finish undressing. She listened to the sounds of rustling cloth and his soft grunts and curses. Her cheeks heated as she imagined what his chest had looked like, all curved muscle covered with a down of pale blond hair.

_He is your patient, Eala. Cut it out._

 “All right. I am ready,” his deep voice called from behind her. She turned to find that he was lying on his stomach, with the covers pulled up to his waist, his bare back exposed.

Eala swallowed, and knelt beside him on the bed, holding the jar of oakmoss and elderflower cream. Just another patient. Just another patient, she repeated that refrain in her head as she dipped her fingers into the cream and began working it into his neck and shoulders, systematically working her way down to just above the rise of his buttocks. His muscles were tight and tense, as she knew they would be, and she had to go slow, pressing deep soothing circles into his flesh and digging in her thumbs wherever she felt a knot.

“That feels good,” he slurred, his face tucked into the crook of on elbow. “Should have done this ages ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”  She continued to massage the cream into the skin of his back, enjoying the little moans and grunts she pulled from him. His back was beautiful — all sculpted muscle without an ounce of spare flesh. The skin at the tops of his shoulders and upper arms was lightly freckled, and his entire upper body was tanned to a light golden color. He must spend time training in the sun without a shirt. Maker, was everything about him golden?  

“I thought it was a frivolous,” he hissed as she alighted on a large knot above his left hip, “harder if you please; that spot has been killing me for weeks — waste of scarce resources — but now I..oh Maker,” his words petered out on a moan of pleasure.

She thought as much. Her own father has been stoic until the last, refusing to seek help because it would cost their family money they scarcely had..her eyes misted as she remembered her father lying on his death bed. She had been just 11 years old.

She shook off the memory and returned her attention to the man lying on the cot beside her. “Commander, you mustn’t feel guilty for this,” she told him, circling each vertebra with her thumbs and massaging them back into alignment. “You obviously need this.”

“I rather wish you wouldn’t use my title, Eala,” he rasped. “But yes, I see that now. Maker, I could honestly fall asleep right now.” The wonder in his voice almost made her chuckle.

“It’s what is supposed to happen once tension and pain are gone,” she said, switching her strokes to long and light scratches using just her fingertips over the skin of his back. “Sleep, Ser. I’ll see myself out.”

“Come tomorrow at six bells,” the Commander slurred before his eyes shut completely and his soft snores filled the tent.

* * *

 

 Eala stood on the steps of the healers’ hut looking up at the gigantic green tear in the sky and shivered. It had been a week since the Conclave exploded and the Divine was murdered.  She and the other healers had had their hands full patching up the wounded, but since that elf woman had stopped the Breach from expanding, things had settled down to nearly normal.

Now, she watched that elf woman — they were calling her the Herald of Andraste — she was speaking in hushed tones with that male elf apostate, Solas, in front of his cabin. The two elves had their heads together, Solas’ bald pate shining in the weak afternoon sunlight and the Herald’s white blond hair glistened like freshly fallen snow as it tumbled down over her shoulders and back, concealing her delicate features.

She was very beautiful; taller than most elves, with a willowy body that would look good clad in a canvas sack. Most everyone in Haven was taken with her. She wondered what the Commander thought of her and a sharp pang tore at her chest. Of course, he was probably just as enamored of her as everyone else.

But that was none of her business, so she forced the thought of it from her mind and stepped off the stairs. She walked past the two elves who gave her strange looks as she headed down the stone steps toward the village gates. She had some herbs to collect, and she wanted to be done before nightfall when she would have a bath and eat some supper before heading to the Commander’s tent for his treatment.

As she exited the village, she spotted him working with his men in the big practice field across the snow-packed road from the gates. She waved to him, and he waved back when she passed the field on the way toward the lake. She was glad to see that he seemed less encumbered by pain today. She continued on her way to collect her herbs, humming to herself.

When she returned to the Healers’ Cabin to sort out the herbs she had gathered, she sighed inwardly when she saw that Heather and Jocelyn were also there, sorting and putting away their own baskets of herbs.  Eala didn’t understand why the two other girls did not like her; she had done nothing to them, but since she had joined the Inquisition, they never had two good words for her. Quietly, she joined them at the counter in the back of the cabin, set her basket down, and began to separate the herbs inside carefully.

“Joce,” Heather began as she reached for the jar of elfroot on the shelf above the counter. “Did you hear?  The Commander has eyes for the Herald.”

Eala stiffened, but said nothing, standing on tiptoe to pull down the milk thistle jar. She dropped a bunch of the plant into it, closed the lid, and replaced it on the shelf.

“Yes, I saw them chatting on the field earlier this morning. It looked like they were getting on quite well. They make a gorgeous couple, don’t they?  She looks so tiny next to his brawny blondness. And Maker, the way he was looking at her — as if she hung the moon!”Jocelyn sighed theatrically, fluttering her lashes and tossing her long red curls over her shoulder. “ I wish he would look at me that way.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Heather narrow her catlike green eyes in her direction. She braced herself for what she knew was coming as she continued to sort her herbs.

Heather slowly walked behind her, making tsking noises. “Yes, all the girls in Haven wish the same — even our own little piglet.”

Eala didn’t turn around. Instead, she picked up her pile of elfroot and trimmed off the excess stalks before leaning over to drag the elfroot jar toward her. Breathing evenly, she opened the lid and joined her pile of elfroot with the rest already in the container.

“Really?” Jocelyn’s skirts rustled, and she tutted mournfully. “That’s too bad.”

“Yes, I’ve seen her making calf-eyes at the man — as if a good-looking male like him would even deign to give her the time of day! I mean, look at her,” Heather’s voice dripped with acid. “Short and squat as a dwarf. D’you think she’s part dwarf? “

The two girls tittered cruelly, and Eala had to fight back the tears as she finished putting away the plants she collected. She didn’t know why she was letting their words get to her; it’s not like she hasn’t heard similar comments before.

She turned to leave, but the two taller girls blocked her way. Keeping her head down, Eala forced out a curt “Please let me pass.”

“Why,” demanded Jocelyn, her hands on her hips. “Don’t like hearing the truth, cow?”

“It should have been us,” Heather hissed, leaning down to poke at the front of Eala’s robes. “We should have been chosen to treat Commander Rutherford — not you!”

“Let me pass,” Eala repeated, stepping back from the blond girl’s accusing finger.

“Stupid little…” but Heather was interrupted from what she about say or do by Adan coming back into the cabin.

“What’s all this, then,” he asked as she hung his cloak up.

“Nothing, Ser,” Heather denied as she and Jocelyn returned to their places at the counter. “We were just conferring with Healer Eala about er..a new healing technique.”

“Well, get back to work. Those herbs won’t be getting cataloged and put away on their own, now will they?

“No Ser,” the two girls chorused and busied themselves with their stacks of plants.

Adan gave Eala a curious look but said nothing as she quickly wrapped herself in her cloak and left the cabin.


	2. On the Side of a Hill in the Deep Forest Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eala and Cullen get to know each other better and the Herald has some questions for her about the Commander's treatments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have another chapter up for you guys. I hope you like it. Again, I have no idea what I am doing, I am just writing what the characters tell me.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, as they make me want to keep writing.

Eala sat on the dock, her bare feet dipped in the cool water of the lake as she watched the rest of Haven enjoying the warm weather of late spring.  Two young men from the village had hoisted the giggling Heather and Jocelyn on their shoulders, and the two girls were wrestling each other and trying to knock each other off as the men tried to keep their balance on the muddy lake floor. Children were splashing in the water near the beach while their parents sat on blankets munching on sandwiches and tugging at bottles of frosted ale.

“Why are you not out there with your friends,” asked a voice from behind her. She turned to look at smiled when she saw it was the Commander.

“They’re not my friends,” she said as he sat down beside her and began pulling off his boots and socks. He wore a simple white shirt today, tucked into his usual pair of leather breeches. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in deference to the day’s warmth, and his powerful tanned forearms were exposed, the light blond hairs on them glittering like gold dust in the sunlight.

“Ah,” he said as he finished rolling up the legs of his breeches. He stuck his feet in the water, sighing with pleasure. “Maker, my feet were burning.” He glanced over at her, raising one golden eyebrow. “I hope you do not mind sharing your spot with me.“

Her cheeks burned as she felt the heat of the man beside her. He was so close, his powerful shoulders brushing hers and his thighs like twin tree trunks so near to her own. She dared a glance at his face and saw that his jaw and cheeks were already covered with a layer of blond stubble even though it was just after noon. He was smiling at her, and all the warmth of summer was in those golden eyes.From this close, she could see were flecked with green.

“Of course not, Commander,” she managed, quickly looking away and tucking her hands under her so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch him.

He leaned back on his elbows, looking out at the deep blue of the lake water. “You know, this reminds me of a lake near the village where I grew up.” He squinted over at her. “It’s not exact, of course, but the feel of it is rather the same, even down to the noise, after my siblings found out where I’d gone.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Honnleath — it’s  a small town near Redcliffe in Ferelden. “ He looked out across the lake, a wistful expression on his face. “It was destroyed in the Blight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eala said, swinging her legs back and forth. “I hope your family survived?”

“My parents did not make it out, but my siblings did. They live in South Reach now.” He reached over and placed one large hand on her shoulder, and she lost her ability to breathe at the feel of that warm weight on her. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“A small fishing village near Jader,” she said after she had mastered the ability to breathe on her own again. “My mother is alive still as are my brothers, but my father passed away when I was still a child.”

The hand on her shoulder squeezed with a gentle pressure and his brow creased with sympathy. “That must have been difficult for you, losing a father so young. “

She put on a brave smile. “It was a long time ago.”

He gave her shoulder one last squeeze, then removed his hand to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He stopped about halfway down his chest and pulled the thin fabric away from his skin. “Maker, it’s hot today.” He peered at her. “Aren’t you hot?”

“A little,” she said, but what she was thinking was yes, you definitely are hot.

He snorted. “Ah well, my, um condition makes me run hotter than most. “ He looked at the water again. “That lake looks lovely for a swim right about now.” Sighing, he sprawled back against the wooden planks of the dock and threw one powerful forearm across his eyes. “But I must conserve my energy: I still have work to do.”

“Why? Everyone else is taking the day off. Why not you, too?”

Removing his forearm from his eyes, he caught her gaze.  “Paperwork, my dear Eala. I have an age’s worth of paperwork waiting for me on my desk, and I intend  on catching up on it today — unless you would rather do it for me.” His eyes twinkled. “Maker knows I could use a nap. I’m already exhausted and the day is not even half over.”

“You could sleep here for a while,” she suggested, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Did she just say that to him? “I, er, mean, perhaps you should lie down for a while — in your tent!”

The Commander raised an eyebrow, a smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. “Well, if I’m to nap, I much prefer to do it here amid the fresh air and the pleasant company.”

Eala’s heart stopped and her breath caught in her throat. Did — did he just say that he enjoyed her company? Gladness that she had no rational reason to feel flooded her chest because surely he just meant it in a friendly way, nothing more. Well, even still, there were worse things than being Cullen Rutherford’s friend.

A comfortable silence stretched between them as he rested there beside her while she watched the village youths chasing each other in the water nearby. Birdsong filled the woods around them, and Eala decided that she could not have asked for a more pleasant afternoon.

The Commander’s sigh drew her attention back to him and, unable to help herself, Eala leaned closer to watch a droplet of sweat dislodged by rise and fall of his chest run from his collarbone down into the center of his chest, where the pale golden down of his chest hair was the thickest. It caught in the strands of hair there, clinging to one and begging for her to wipe it away. She bit back a gasp as she noticed something else: his shirt gapped open far enough that she could see one of his pink nipples peeking out. She licked her lips and swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat. She wanted to lean over and take that nub in her mouth, to taste his skin. It was right there. All she had to do was —

 ‘Will you do something for me?” Luckily, his sleepy voice distracted her from her ruin, and she inhaled a breath of relief as she settled back down at his side.

“Of course.”

He reached into the pockets of his pants and pulled out a kerchief and held it out to her. “Will you wet this for me?”

She nodded and took it from him, then got up on her knees and dipped it into the cool lake water. After wringing our the excess, she turned and presented the cloth to him. But instead of accepting it, he unbuttoned a couple more buttons on his shirt and pressed one hand to the center of his chest.

“Lay it here,” he said, closing his eyes and throwing a forearm over them again. With a frown of consternation, she spread the little towel flat on his chest where he indicated, and the Commander sighed. She made sure it covered as much skin as it could reach and pressed it down over his hot skin, careful to avoid direct contact.“Thank you.”

“Are you all right, Commander?” She wondered if his condition was acting up, but he didn’t seem to be in distress.

“What? I —yes. I needed to cool off a bit.” He bent a knee and rested a foot on the wood of the dock. “I think I shall have that nap, Eala. I find I am getting quite sleepy.“

Just as he said those words, a runner came tearing up the dock toward them. Placing his hand over his heart in a quick salute, he babbled out his message: “Commander! Seeker Pentaghast requests your presence in the War Room, Ser.”

He sat up and groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Tell her I shall be along shortly, James.”

“Yes Ser” and the young man ran back the way he had come.

Eala watched as the Commander got slowly to his feet, taking the cloth from his chest and stuffing it back into his breeches pocket. “No rest for the wicked,” he said, with a wry smile as he smoothed down his pants legs.”I shall see you tonight, then?”

“I will be there.”

He nodded at her and left, carrying his boots with him.

 

* * *

 

Spring turned to summer, and the village was alive with the season’s commerce as farmers brought in their goods to sell. The Herald had been busy in the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast,  and fresh recruits were flocking to Haven to join the cause, which kept the Commander very busy.

To the delight of the village girls and some of the boys, the Commander had taken to training his recruits without a shirt. Every day, tittering girls came to sit on the haystacks near the training field to watch him in action.  She could not blame them for the rapt attention they paid their handsome General; the sun had bleached his golden mane with streaks of paler blond and, while his tan never darkened beyond a crisp golden hue, it took on a ruddy cast, like it was just on the edge of a sunburn. It served to bring out the gold of his eyes, giving him the appearance of a fierce lion.

Eala observed from farther away, tucked in between the crates of medicinal stocks that she had gone through for the tenth time.  Today, the Commander appeared to be teaching a fresh group of young hopefuls how to hold a shield. Her eyes traced the curves of the muscles in his arms and chest as sweat made them glisten in the morning sunlight. The day was shaping up to be a hot one; she could feel the heat of the sun making the top of her head burn. Her clothing was as light as she dared to wear, but she didn’t feel comfortable baring her arms or wearing the frilly low-cut blouses that the other girls seemed to favor. Her too-large breasts and short, stocky frame did not leave her much freedom in her choice of clothing.

“There’s a shield in your hand. Block with it,” the Commander was shouting at a young soldier who was struggling to find the proper rhythm between swinging his blade and blocking with his shield. Even from here, she could see the pinched brow and tell-tale muscle in his cheek jumping. She felt sorry for the hapless recruit, certain that he was about to receive quite the set-down, but then the big blond took a deep breath and took the shield from the young man. “All right — Roger, is it?” At the young man’s nod, he continued “watch what I do, okay?”

“Yes, Ser,” said Roger, wiping the sweat from his forehead and turned his attention to his Commander.

Commander Cullen turned to the recruit the first one was sparring with and waved at him to attack. Effortlessly, but with enough slowness that Roger could easily follow his movements,  Eala smiled as she watched him demonstrate the proper moves over and over until he was satisfied that Roger understood them.

Eala sighed. He was poetry in motion; all of his muscles gliding effortlessly under that golden skin. Tonight she would get to put her hands on him again. Maker, she shouldn’t be thinking of him this way. Not at all. But she couldn’t stop the thrill that made her shiver from head to toe at the thought of feeling those muscles ripple under her fingers as she rubbed the liniment into his skin.

As Commander Cullen handed the shield back to the recruit, the Herald appeared, strolling toward him from the direction the Haven gates. She wore her white-blond hair up in a high ponytail that swished back and forth as she walked and accentuated her long graceful neck and slim pointed ears. Her clothing showed off a slim, yet muscular build: tight leather leggings and an off the shoulder frilly white blouse.

As the Commander smiled and greeted her, trailing his eyes over her slender form, a twinge of jealousy shot through Eala, but she quickly tamped it down. Eala’s eyes unwillingly followed the two as they strolled off a ways together, chatting quietly with each other. The Herald placed her small hand on the Commander’s bicep — Maker, it was too thick for her to wrap her fingers around — and laughed at something he said, throwing back her head in careless amusement.  His laughter joined hers, and they continued walking until Eala could no longer hear their voices.

Unwilling tears pricking her eyes, Eala turned away, no longer wanting to see them together. She gathered up her things and quietly slipped back into the village proper, deciding to tackle this week’s treatment logs.

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, the Herald herself paid Eala a visit, sliding, sylph-like, into the cabin and poising in front of Eala’s desk.

“You are Healer Eala, yes?” Her voice was just as beguiling as the rest of her, throaty and warm with just the hint of a lilt.

“I am, “ replied Eala, sitting up straight in her chair. “What can I help you will, Herald?”

The elven woman picked up a glass paperweight and examined it before setting it back down. “I understand you are treating the Commander. Is that right?” Her striking pale blue eyes were sharp as shards of cut glass as they focused on the healer.

A frisson of unease skittered down Eala’s spine. She was uncertain why, but she had a feeling she needed to be careful with her words.“Yes,” she answered truthfully.

The Herald placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward, looking down at Eala with those eyes that missed nothing. “Then perhaps you would care to tell me what is wrong with my Commander that he requires twice daily treatments? “

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information, Herald. That’s between the Commander and me.” Eala’s hands unconsciously tightened into fists in her lap. A memory from the past winter shot to the forefront of her mind of the Herald and Solas standing so close together — closer than two friends might strictly stand. 

The elf straightened and walked back and forth, her hands clasped behind her back. “And yet,” she said, turning to eye Eala again,” the man is in a position of some importance within the Inquisition. Do we not have a right to know — to know and decide if he is fit for command?”

Outside, the shouts of children playing in the streets carried in with the breeze from the open window above her desk. Eala frowned as she tried to decipher what the woman was after. She tried to remember the exact structure of the Inquisition hierarchy, but beyond the Commander, and perhaps Seeker Pentaghast, she would not place where this Herald fit. Clearly, she thought she had a position of some power. Was it enough to hurt the Commander’s future?  And why would she even want to? In the end, confidentially allowed only one answer: “Be that as it may, I still cannot divulge personal medical information to you without the Commander’s consent.”

The Herald seemed to consider her words before lifting the corners of her mouth in a small smile that did not reach her icy blue eyes. They drifted over Eala’s form in a way that made her feel examined to the core, like every thought she ever had, every feeling, and every desire was laid bare for this woman to pick through. The uncomfortable silence stretched between them until the elf nodded her head and turned to go.

“Of course,” she said, and then she was gone.

 

* * *

 

That night when she showed up at the Commander’s tent, she was not surprised to see that the Herald was there, seated on the Commander’s bed while he sat at the edge of his desk. He had his arms crossed over his chest, clad in a white unbuttoned shirt that set off his golden skin, his fingers tucked underneath his arms, and his legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles.

“Oh,” she said. “Forgive me. I can return later,” and she turned to go, but the Herald rolled to her feet and glided forward, placing a delicate dagger-tipped hand on her arm.

“Nonsense. The Commander needs his treatment.” She smiled at him, and the silly man just beamed back at her. “I was just leaving anyway.” She released Eala’s arm and sauntered toward the tent’s entrance where she turned to share a heated glance with him. “I’ll see you at the festival tomorrow, Cullen.”

He got to his feet and inclined his head. “I look forward to it, my lady.”

After the Herald left, the Commander grinned at her and raised an eyebrow. “I guess we should get started, hm?” He started peeling off his shirt and waited for her turn her back before beginning to remove his pants.

“You’re in a good mood this evening,” Eala offered as she faced the front of the tent.

“Am I? Yes, I suppose so. “ The clink of a metal clasp pulling free told her he was unbuckling his belt. Unbidden, thoughts of what he might look like below the waist floated before her mind’s eye.  She bit her lip hard to keep her brain from going further down that path.

“Any — um — particular reason you’re so chipper today?”

More sounds — this time the soft slide of leather against skin as he removed his breeches came to her ears. In her mind, she could see him shrugging as he considered his answer.

“I — don’t quite know, to be honest. Let us just say that the day turned out better than I’d hoped.”

Eala said nothing to that, merely crossed her arms over her chest and chafed her upper arms as she thought of the Herald’s visit that afternoon. Chewing on her lower lip, she considered what, if anything she should tell him about it.

When he was settled on his bed, and she was kneeling beside him, and her fingers were working the liniment into his neck and shoulders she asked him “so you are attending the festival tomorrow, then?”

“I — yes. I hope to. You are attending, as well, yes?” _I’d like to see you there,_ came the wicked thought before she could stop it.

She cleared her throat. “I’m not certain. The festival starts at 15 bells — will you need your second treatment, then?”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought about that.” Eala pressed into a knot at the base of his neck, and he groaned. “Maker, that’s so bloody good. I, um —  forgive me, Eala, I do not know where my brain has gone.Of course, you may have the evening off.”

“I —I could come earlier, if you wish, Ser,” she babbled and blushed, glad that he couldn’t see it. “it would be no problem at all.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, his muscles rippling enticingly. “It is not necessary. I can do without your lovely hands on me for one night, I think.”

Warmth flooded her chest, and a rising euphoria made her feel as if she could float away, sailing high into the cloudless sky on the warm summer breeze. She knew it didn’t mean anything other than that he thought she did her job well, but still, it was nice to hear.

She moved her hands lower and began kneading his shoulder blades and the place in between where he seemed to carry a lot of tension. As she rubbed the cream into his skin until it absorbed and pressed and pulled his muscle fibers, he moaned, a delicious sound that she felt through her fingertips. It raced along her nerves and synapses of her arms and settled in a pool of heat low in her belly.

Maker, she shouldn’t be feeling this.

_He’s your patient. He’s your patient_

But no matter how often she repeated that mantra, she could not stop the way her heart raced or the wet warmth that gathered between her legs at his grateful grunts and groans of pleasure and relief as she rubbed him. She could not stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, to run her fingers through the mat of hair on his chest and trace trail of body hair down to where it flared again low on his belly and lower still.

Beside her, the Commander was falling deeper under the spell of her relaxing hands, and his breathing pattern lengthened as he slipped into slumber. Quietly, she rose to her feet and wiping her hands on her skirts, she exited the tent and made for her cabin, thoughts of the Commander and his warm body whirling in her head.

 


	3. Washes The Grave With Silvery Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eala finds that she is caring more and more about the handsome Commander every day, and his behavior toward her is not helping matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys! Your comments are amazing. Reading them makes me so happy and makes me want to write more and more.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has left a kudo or a comment on this fic. You guys give me life!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit of a longer one, too. Again, let me know what you think. :)

Eala knelt in front of her clothing chest, tossing garment after garment onto her bed. All unacceptable! Did she own nothing that was at all festive? For the first time in her short life, she actually cared about how she looked to others — well truth be told she cared only what one other person thought — and that was pure foolishness on her part. She stood with her hands on her hips and curled her lip at the pile of clothing now obscuring the coverlet on her bed. She picked up a black dress that she had worn just once before — when she was interviewing for the position of healer, as a matter of fact. It wasn’t exactly a party dress, but at least it was slimming on her frame and wasn’t at all worn down from repeated washings. It would have to do.

She set the dress aside and tossed everything else back in her chest. It was early; she had plenty of time to bathe before the festival began. Moving quickly, she went into her second chest to grab out a towel and her bathing kit. Tucking everything under her arm, she left her room, exited the cabin she shared with two other girls and headed for the bathhouse.

The early afternoon was as hot and sultry, but the breeze from the lake promised a balmy evening that was comfortable enough for dancing, feasting, and whatever other merriments the villagers might get up to. As she crossed the village square, she noted that the workers had finished setting up for the night’s festivities: there was a stage for Maryden and her band, and a dance floor large enough for the lively Fereldan reels the villagers of Haven favored.

The smells of roasted pork, august ram, and beef filled the air and already, the village women who had volunteered to make the food were loading down trestle tables with a variety of tasty foods.  Eala’s stomach growled, and she realized that she was famished.  Inhaling the appetizing aromas, she grinned; it was a good thing that she had decided to forgo lunch today.

When she reached the bathhouse,  she sighed with relief when she saw that it was empty. She did not like taking off her clothes in front of other people, did not like being aware of her pudgy stomach or the huge mounds of her breasts where others could see. It made her feel dowdy and dumpy next to the slim, nubile shapes of the other girls her age.

While the tub filled, she went into the smaller dressing room off to the side and slipped her black dress into one of the cubbies that lined the wall for that purpose, along with her shoes and her hairbrush.  She fingered the material of the dress and hoped that the Commander noticed that she was wearing something he hadn’t seen her in before.

Back in the bathing room, she quickly took off her clothes and sank gratefully into the steaming water.  She ducked her head beneath the water and tossed the mass of wet curls back as she reached for her hair soap. As she lathered her hair, she wondered if the Commander was getting ready for tonight right now, too. She pressed her thighs together uncomfortably as she remembered what his naked body looked and felt like — all hard muscle overlaid by soft golden skin. Her fingers itched, longing to feel those shapely muscles shift under her touch.  Sweet Maker, what in Thedas was wrong with her? To be thinking such thoughts about the Commander — a man she stood no realistic chance with, even if he was not under her care. Did she honestly think that he would turn away from the beauteous Herald to pursue _her_? What rubbish!    

With a snort of self-disgust, she sank her head under water to rinse the soap from her hair. As she cleared the water from her face and brushed the long skeins of her curls away from her ears, she thought she heard a noise coming from the dressing room. Was that giggling? She cocked her head and listened closely,  but all was still and silent. She frowned, then shrugged her shoulders;  it must have come from outside — the sounds of the children playing, perhaps.  Giving it no further thought, she finished her bath.

Wrapped in a towel and carrying her things, the sight that greeted her when she entered the dressing room brought her to a standstill.  Her mouth fell open and the items she was holding clattered to the floor. How had they done it? She searched the room and spied the exterior door left slightly ajar.  The laughter she had heard — she pictured the sadistic smiles on Jocelyn and Heather’s faces as they perpetrated  — this. Every good feeling, every positive expectation she’d had for this day vanished into a morass of anger and despair burning in her chest.

Dragging herself forward, she knelt in front of the remains of her black dress, piled in the center of the room like an offering to some mercenary god of old. She fingered what was left of the material, cut up and torn viciously into thin strips and marked up with white paint. Maker forgive her, but right now everything inside her urged her to confront the two perpetrators and…and…she honestly didn’t know what. But what would that accomplish? She sighed and bowed her head, tears falling onto plump cheeks and spilling onto the sad pile that remained of her dreams for this night.  

 

* * *

 

 

Dressed in her least worn dress, Eala ducked around the boisterous crowd of villagers as she looked for the Commander.  She had left her hair, her only good feature, free to tumble loose in a riot of inky curls down her back, except for the pieces she had secured away from her face with a yellow ribbon. The ribbon was to add some color to her otherwise dull beige dress, foolish though it was. While she wasn’t dressed in her most slimming outfit nor the newest, she wanted to see if he noticed that she had done her hair differently that her usual single braid.

She spotted his distinctive blond head towering over the rest of the crush almost immediately. He stood near one of the trestle tables and was spearing pieces of roasted meat onto his plate from the cornucopia laid before him, and beside him stood the Herald. He laid down the serving fork he was using and paused to slip a piece of succulent ram meat into his mouth as he listened to something the Herald said. He nodded, licked his fingers, then picked up another piece and offered it to her. She opened her mouth to take it from his fingers, and even from this distance, Eala could see the Herald’s pink tongue darting out to caress the Commander’s  fingertips as the morsel disappeared between her perfect white teeth.

She closed her eyes and fought with the images spinning out of control in her mind of him doing the same to her. Andraste preserve her, she could almost taste the flavor of the meat melding with the that of his skin.  Cheeks flushed pink and shame burning in her gut, Eala slowly backed away from the scene. What a silly ninny she was — letting her crush on her patient, of all things, get out of hand like this.  It was probably for the best that those girls had ruined her dress. If she had been wearing it, perhaps she would have gone over to him and made an even bigger fool of herself. Striding away from the festival, Eala resolved to spend the rest of the evening in her room reading. She had always known that festivals, feasts, and parties were not for her.

As she slumped her way toward her cabin, a disembodied voice sounded from somewhere above on the nearby roofs.

“Oi, you,” it said.  

“Hello?” Eala looked around, but away from the torches of the festival, the village was dark, and she couldn’t see anything.

She heard the sound of leather and cloth scraping on wood and stone and then a tallish elf with unevenly shorn blond hair and dressed in an oddly patched tunic and leggings appeared at her side.

“’Lo,” said the elf as she placed a calloused hand on her shoulder and urged her forward. “Don’t want the rest of them toffs hearin’ this, yeah?”

Eala narrowed her eyes, tugged her shoulder away, and stood her ground. “What do you want?” She recognized the elf now — she was one of the Herald’s inner circle. Her name was Sera or something?

Sera studied her for a moment, the light of mischief in her blue eyes. “Eh, it’s not what I want, yeah, it’s about what you want.”

“If the Herald put you up to this, there’s nothing —”

“Hey, I’m here to help you.” Sera interrupted, her lips drawing back over her teeth in a wicked grin that was just this side of crazy.”You’re the healer what’s takin care of the jackboot, yeah?”

“Jack… you mean the Commander?”

“Yeah,   guy what stomps around yellin’ at people all day long with a scowl on ‘is face.”

Eala frowned. “Yes, I am the Commander’s healer. What do you want?”

The elf sighed and crossed her stringy arms over her chest. “Again, with the wantin!’ I’tain’t about what I want, all right?”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” she said, brows going up. She may regret this later, but now she was curious.

The smile returned to Sera’s face. “Okay, ‘ere it is: The ‘erald glowy person is too elfy for your Jackboot.”

“Elfy?” Like that made any sense. “Yes, the Herald is an…elf.” And so are you, she wanted to add but chose not to point that out.

“Yeah, you know, she’s all into Elvhen glory and all.” Sera raised her hands to shoulder level and waved them in the air.

“I’m afraid I’m still not following you. Can you please clarify.”

Sera gave an exasperated sigh. “She’ll never be serious about your Commander Tight Arse because he is not an elf!”

“Why are you telling me this? I’m just his healer.”

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m the Queen of Antiva. I see the way you look at him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eala denied. Maker, if this elf saw it, surely the Commander had to notice it, too.  “T-thank you for telling me this.”

Sera laughed. “Oi, t’was nothing. I like to look out for people, yeah?” She gave Eala a little wave and then the weird elf girl disappeared as quickly as she had appeared, vanishing in a puff of smoke into the night.

 

* * *

 

As summer wound down into autumn, Eala’s days fell into a predictable rhythm. She would wake, head over to the Commander’s tent, work on him, then go to the healer’s cabin to treat the soldiers and attend the rest of her duties. When her day at the healer’s cabin was over, she would eat supper at the tavern and then go to the Commander again for his night treatment.

As the weather cooled and the autumn winds brought rain up from the valleys, the Commander’s aches and pains became more troublesome than they had been during the summer. He was crankier,  often impatient and short tempered. When she watched him training his men, she noticed that he would sometimes step away from the field to rub the back of his neck or knuckle his lower back when he thought no one was watching him. She tried to help him where she could, and now devoted more time to him every morning and evening to work out the kinks in his muscles.

One particularly wet night, when Eala arrived at the Commander’s tent, she found him already abed and drenched in sweat. He had a forearm thrown over his eyes, and she could hear him cursing under his breath. As she approached the bed, a flash of lighting lit up the inside of the tent as if it were broad daylight and the almost immediate crash of thunder caused him to curl in on himself and whimper with pain.

“Maker, please stop this pain,” he whispered as she knelt beside his bed. “I can’t — I can’t —“  


 “Commander,”  she whispered, careful to keep her voice low. “Is it the headache?” She suspected as much, but she had to be sure it wasn’t something else that ailed him.

“Eala,” he gasped. “Thank the Maker you are here. Y-yes my head is pounding. It has been since this morning.” He shifted his arm so that he could peer at her through one bloodshot eye.  “Maker, I – I “ He covered his mouth, and his torso shot up.

Anticipating his need, she found the bucket he had placed near his bed and handed it to him. She turned away to give him privacy as he emptied his stomach into it. As she listened to him be sick, her heart ached for him. She knew his migraines were severe and debilitating and this one looked like one of his worst.

When he was through, she turned back to find him sprawled on his back, breathing heavily, his body covered with a fresh layer of sweat.  Quietly, she removed the fouled bucket and placed it outside for the cleaners to take and replaced it with a fresh one in case he needed it again.

Working quickly, she found what she needed in his medicine chest and prepared a solution of elfroot and mint in a bowl. Finding a rag, she immersed it in the solution, and after ringing the excess out, she began to wipe down his torso with it. The Commander groaned as she carefully drew the moistened cloth along the muscles of his neck, shoulders, chest, and finally down his jerking abdomen. She cleaned him, wiping away all traces of sweat from his skin and he sighed, clearly enjoying her ministrations.

Next, she moved to his face. His expression was pinched; his eyebrows were furrowed, and the line between them was etched deep. She tutted gently as she wiped away the sweat and tears from his handsome face. As she did, his features softened a little. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“That’s better, isn’t it,” she soothed, unable to help reaching out to brush back a curl that had fallen onto his forehead. His answer was a low hum of approval that went straight to her heart. It took so little to please him. Just the barest touch — the barest kindness, and he turned into putty in her hands.  Pressure was rising in her chest, exploding in a heat suffusing her body from head to toe.

“Oh, my dear Ser,” she whispered. What had his life been like up to now that so little care undid him so completely?  She dipped a fresh cloth into the mixture and draped it across his forehead, making sure it covered his eyes. He breathed a soft sigh and shifted a little on his bed.

As Eala settled herself at the top of his bed, she hoped that the Herald was worthy of his love and would care for him as he deserved. She carefully slid her hands under him, making sure to cradle his neck and head and she slid forward so that his head was lying in her lap. As he sighed again, she placed her fingers on his temples and began to press gentle circles against his skin.

“Maker, that’s  —“

“Shh,” she hushed him as she moved her fingers over his forehead, paying special attention to the area above his left eyebrow where she knew his pain was always the worst, then swept them back to his temples, then over his scalp, searching out the pressure points she knew of.  She moved lower, lifting and cradling his head as she massaged the base of his skull and his neck. Finally, she pressed light and careful circles on his shoulders and upper chest.

For an hour, she worked on him, making the entire circuit, from temples to forehead, back to temples, scalp, neck, shoulders, and chest, before starting over again. When the muscles in his jaw finally unclenched, she knew the worst was over. She cupped one stubbly cheek and smiled down at him as he sighed and pulled the cloth from over his eyes. For a long moment, he just stared at her with those liquid gold eyes, searching her face, as if he were memorizing her features.

“Maker, you’re a wonder,” he said, turning his face to press a kiss into her palm. “Thank you for caring for me. “

She quickly withdrew, her hand tingling from where he had kissed it. Her throat constricted as she struggled to respond. What do you say when the man you’ve been pining over forever does something like that? He didn’t mean anything by it, he couldn’t.  He wanted the Herald, the beautiful, slender, and powerful Herald — not her.

She decided to say nothing. Indeed, what could she say? That caring for him was no big deal to her? That she would happily do it for her entire life — and his if he would let her? That she cared for him more than she should? No. It was better to remain silent.

“Mm. “ He shifted in bed and his brow furrowed. She resumed her careful strokes, gently smoothing out the line between his brows.”You know,” he said, “ I don’t deserve your care. None of it.” His jaw tightened, and his eyes squeezed shut. “I —I did something bad today.” This last was whispered so low she wasn’t sure if she heard him right.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “I did something bad.” His voice cracked “ This morning. B-before the headache took me. And I d-do not think she will forgive me.” He turned his face away from her. “ I don’t deserve it anyway.”

Eala frowned and bit her lip, but remained silent, choosing instead to communicate her comforting presence by carding her fingers through his hair.

“I promised myself I would be a better man. I failed that today.” He took a deep breath. “I-she allied with the Rebel Mages at Redcliffe. A full alliance, and I — Maker, I was so angry.” He closed his eyes and his face twisted in a grimace. “I blew up at the Herald. I said some things I — Andraste preserve me — I didn’t mean them.”

She took in his words, considering what she should say. She had heard that there had been some sort of ruckus up at the Chantry in the morning and that the Herald had returned from Redcliffe with the mages, but she had not been privy to the details.  She knew the Commander had been a Templar before coming to the Inquisition, so it did not surprise her that he would react like that to a pure alliance with the Rebel Mages.

Looking down at the man resting his head in her lap, at the lines of strain appearing on his forehead and around his eyes, there was only one thing she could do. “Shh, now Commander. You are ill and should not excite yourself, “ she crooned as she resumed her massaging circuit.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Maker, I hope she can forgive me. If she does not, I – “

“Hush now,” she interrupted him. “Just relax. You can deal with it in the morning when you’re feeling better.”

“Will you stay with me — at least until I fall asleep?” The plea hit her in the gut; he sounded so lost, and she could clearly imagine the tow-headed little boy he had been, tucked into his mother’s embrace as he sought solace from his childish fears.

She smiled, and unable to stop herself, she leaned down and brushed her lips against his forehead. “Of course, dear Ser. Now close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, then let out a long sigh before his eyelids closed over tormented golden irises, and he fell asleep.

The sounds of the rain drumming against the roof of the tent and splashing onto the hard-packed ground outside woke her a few hours later. Eala yawned as she stretched, and then froze. She wasn’t in her bedroom. And she wasn’t alone in this bed: there was a warm body pressed against her back, a very large, very warm, very _male_ body.  And that was not all: this man’s well-muscled arm wrapped around her middle and held her against him. In his sleep, he murmured something against her and shifted her closer to him.

Her eyes widened as she realized where she was: she lay in the Commander’s bed! With the Commander!  She clapped a hand over her mouth as she suppressed a shocked squeak.

Maker! How did this happen? She thought back over the details of the night before and remembered that she’d been massaging the Commander’s  head and shoulders to ease his migraine.He had asked her to stay until he fell asleep. After that, she guessed she must have fallen asleep, and — had he moved her into her current position? He must have — but why?

She looked around the tent: it was still dark: it must be very early in the morning. If she could just get free of the Commander’s arm without waking him, she could quietly leave and go back to her cabin, without anyone being the wiser.

She started wiggling a little but stopped when behind her, the Commander groaned and shifted, tucking her more firmly against him. She almost groaned herself. Maker’s breath, but this was an impossible situation! There was no help for it; she would have to wake him. 

“Commander.”

“Hmm?”

“Commander, you need to wake up.”

Two warm lips found the skin of her nape and brushed gently against the skin there, just the briefest touch, but it still made her shiver. “Just a moment longer,” he murmured as he buried his face in the join between her neck and shoulder.

She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to the Maker to give her strength to resist the pull of this man. It was then that she noticed that one of his thighs had slipped between her legs and was pressed against her clothed center. She could feel every single hair on that muscular leg against the sensitive skin of her own legs, and she nearly moaned at how good it felt.

“C-Commander,” she tried again.

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?” Her voice had a high, thin, breathless note and heat flooded her core as the blasted man shifted, causing his thigh to brush against her again.

“Resting in bed together,” he said, his voice husky with sleep. “ And I quite think you can call me by my given name, now, Eala.” His tone was so matter-of-fact like there was nothing unusual about this at all.

She ignored that. “I-I have to go — I can’t be seen leaving your tent in the morning. People will talk.”

A long sigh. “It’s early yet. Let’s rest a little longer.” He yawned, and she felt his whole body stretching behind her, like a great jungle cat. “Then I promise I shall let you get up. Just — please stay.”

Now it was her turn to sigh as she settled back against him. “All right. But only a little longer.” She could refuse him nothing.

When she next awoke, the sounds of rain striking the canvas roof of the tent were gone, and the soft, pale light of dawn was creeping under the edges of the closed tent flap and illuminating the space within.

“Sweet Maker!” She shot up out of bed, waking the Commander, who sat up grumbling at the rude awakening. His bare legs were thrown over the edge of the bed, and the sheets were crumpled about his hips — his very bare hips.“I-um, I have to go,” she said, turning toward the tent’s entrance.  


“Eala, wait. “ She turned back to him. He scrubbed a hand over his face and rested his head there, elbow propped up on a knee. He watched her with golden eyes still bleary with sleep. “Thank you again — for last night.”

“I am your healer, Commander. I but did my duty.”

His brows knit together as his expression clouded. “We are friends, are we not, Eala?”

Her expression softened. “Dear Ser, I am your friend. But now,” she looked back at the increasing light coming through from outside. “Now I have to go. I shall return for your treatment momentarily.”

He smiled sadly. “Very well. I shall see you shortly, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

 “That book must be quite interesting. What are you reading?”

Eala looked up from her book to find the Commander seated across from her, golden eyes warm and one corner of his mouth lifted in his signature smirk.“Oh! Forgive me I-“ she blushed, peering at him from under lowered lashes. “I-It’s a text on healing techniques from Rivain.”

“I see.” He looked around the quiet tavern and leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I trust you have not fared poorly because of last night?”

She returned his smile and waved a hand dismissively. “No, so far no one has given me any trouble over it. I am your healer, after all. How are you feeling today?”

“I am better, thanks to you.” He raised his mug of tea and smiled ruefully. “I am erring on the side of caution on account of my stomach, and I still have a  slight headache, but nothing like last night.”  He did look better; his skin had more color, and his eyes had regained their sparkle. There was still a hint of pain around his eyes and the lines bracketing his mouth, but that was usual for him.

“I am glad to hear it. Have you, um, spoken to the Herald?”

He took a sip of his tea before answering, smoothing down the napkin on the table in front of him with his broad, blunt-fingered hands.  “I — yes. She, ah, came to my quarters and we spoke of —matters.”  His expression tightened, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “She — she’s a good woman. She accepted my apology readily enough.”

Eala kept her counsel on whether the Herald was indeed a good woman. She hoped she was, for his sake. “I’m glad,” she told him, and she was. She was happy that the thing that he feared would come to pass and that had given hm so much grief the night before in the midst of his sickness.

He smiled crookedly at her, his face relaxing. “So, what’s so interesting about Rivaini healing?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Only if you wish to tell me.”

“Well, my mother is from Rivain, and she taught me some basic techniques.  What I am reading here is much more advanced that what she showed me, and I am trying to put it together with what I already know.”

“So that is where you get your looks,” he said and reached out to brush back a strand of dark hair that had come loose from her braid. She inhaled sharply and flinched away, looking around to see if anyone was watching them. What in the Maker’s name was he doing? Why did he insist on...on such gestures when he didn’t —

She swallowed hard and rose to her feet, gathering her books.”I-I have to go. I will see you tonight, Commander.”

He stood up as well, his brow knitting. “Did I say something wrong? Forgive me, I did not intend to offend.”

“No, it’s fine,” she denied. “You did not offend me. I just — I have to go. They are expecting me back at the healer’s cabin.”

“Of course,” he said. “I did not mean to keep you from your duties. I shall see you tonight, then.”

She nodded at him. “Until later, then, Commander.”  She turned then and walked out, not daring to look back in case she saw what she wanted to see in those golden eyes.

 


	4. Between the Salt Water and the Sea Strand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition settles itself in Skyhold as Cullen has a confession to make to Eala regarding his illness. Their relationship continues to deepen as the two reconnect after the long winter spent in an encampment after the devastation of Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, there are no words with which I can convey how absolutely thrilled I am and grateful I am to every one of you who have commented or left kudos on this story. Your support means so much to me and really gives my creativity a boost. So thank you all!
> 
> So, I wanted to add a little note about how I am dealing with lyrium in this fic because it's a bit different from how the game deals with it. For this fic, lyrium withdrawal is a chronic condition that can get serious pretty quickly. I'll let you read this chapter to find out the wherefores and hows, but I just wanted to note it here.
> 
> Anyway, enough babbling from me. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and as always, comments, questions, criticisms, and kudos are all welcome!

“May I see you for a moment?”

Eala’s heart sped up when she heard that familiar clipped Fereldan accent. A smile blossoming on her face, she looked up to see him standing just inside the door to the main treatment room. He must have just come from training his men because he wore just a light shirt, leather breeches, and of course, his sword belt. The sight of him made her throat tighten, and her head swim.

“Of course, Commander.” She swallowed, and pressing down her hair, glided to him. “Did you want to sit,” she said, indicating the chairs arranged in one corner near a large bookcase filled with books.

He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. “Um, no, that’s all right. Will you walk with me?”

She nodded and took the arm he offered her. Outside, spring was in full bloom; the vines that wrapped around the old stones of the keep were sending out new feelers, and the scent of jasmine flooded the air. The ever-present sound of workmen making repairs echoed through the courtyard as they crossed it together toward the stairs leading to the battlements.  Neither of them spoke as they had climbed the stairs to the parapet wall.

The continued walking a few feet until the Commander ducked around the corner of one of the towers, pulling her with him into a secluded corner. She squeaked as he lifted her onto the low wall and tucked himself between her legs. His arms went around her, and he crushed her to him in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, his face buried in the join of her neck and shoulder.

“I-I’ve missed you, too,” she said, unsure for a moment what she should do with her arms. They hovered around him for a few seconds before settling on his shoulders. “C-can you tell me what all this is about?” Her voice was slightly tremulous, her heart was beating so fast in her chest that she thought she might pass out.

He hummed softly and said nothing for a few moments before drawing away to regard her with warm golden eyes. “You have no idea how hard it has been for me without your treatments these last months, but,”  he sighed wearily, “Maker, you know what it has been like…since Haven…I have barely had a moment to think, let alone take time for anything personal.”

She thought of the personal time he took with the Herald — no, she was the Inquisitor now, while they were holed up in the mountain pass over the winter, but she decided against mentioning it. Instead, she said “It was hairy for a while there. I tried to tend to you, but as I recall, you told me that others needed my help more than you did.”

He laughed. “So I did. Well, I think everything is under control now that we have settled at Skyhold. Will you avail me of your healing services once again, Mistress Eala?” He lifted one eyebrow and smirked.

She cocked her head and eyed him critically. His face was thinner, his cheeks gaunter than they had been in Haven, and the purple shadows under his eyes were darker.  Without thinking about it, she brought a hand up to touch the area under his left eye.

“I can see that I have my work cut out for me, then,” she said, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Indeed you do. Listen, can we start tonight? Come to my office at 19 bells, and we can have supper together. I-I have something I must tell you.”

“That sounds ominous, but of course, I’ll come.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled a long sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Eala knocked firmly on the Commander’s door at precisely 19 bells. She shifted from foot to foot and twirled a lock of her her hair as she waited for him to open the door. Soon enough she heard footsteps on the stone floor and then, the door was swinging open, and he stood in the doorway clad in — was he wearing a silk robe? Her mouth went dry as she took in his bare muscular legs below the hem of the robe and the delicious slice of his chest revealed by the deep V above where it was loosely belted at his waist.

 “Uh, C-Commander? Have I come too early? I-I can come back later!” she babbled, her heart thrumming in her chest,  but as she started to turn away, his hand shot out and caught her forearm.

“No — it’s fine. Please come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside so that she could enter. As she moved past him into the candlelit office, he rubbed the back of his neck and hesitated before adding. “I — ah — I thought we could eat upstairs. I hope that’s all right.”

Well. “I, um, I suppose it’s all right. We can get to your treatment right away afterward.” She tried to keep her voice crisp and professional, but it still sounded breathless and raspy to her ears.

He smiled and put an arm around her shoulders to guide her to the ladder that disappeared into the loft above. “You’ll have to forgive the roughness of my quarters. I’ve only just moved in about a week ago.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” she dismissed airily, but when she saw what awaited her upstairs, she gasped. She thankfully retained the presence of mind to step aside so that the Commander could climb up after her, but she didn’t move from her spot at the top of the ladder. She regarded the small table, two chairs, and what looked to be a small feast laid out on it with eyes gone huge with shock. The silly man had gone out of his way to — she had no idea what.

When he saw her shocked expression, he gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for the love of — it is just a supper between friends,” he said. “Nothing more. Now, come, sit, and let’s eat. ” He walked to the table and held out a seat for her.

The firmness in his tone told her he would not take no for an answer, so she swallowed, attempting to moisten her throat and slipped into the chair. As she did, she felt the whisper of his lips brushing against the top of her head, and a shiver tingled up her spine. She closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow down. He said it himself: it was a supper between friends, nothing more. Friends. She was his friend.

Supper was a delicious repast of roasted pheasant, new potatoes, and stuffing made of breadcrumbs and chestnuts. While they ate, they spoke of innocuous topics: how the clinic was coming, how his latest recruits were doing. It was quite pleasant, with the stars visible through the hole in his roof — yes, he had a hole in it, and when she asked him about it, he just shrugged and told her that there were more pressing repairs to be done.

“And I rather like it,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a smirk lifting one corner of his lips. Then his brows furrowed as he leaned forward again. “You’re not cold, are you? Do you need a coat?”

She waved him off. “I’m fine, Commander. It’s just a curious thing that the Inquisition’s general sleeps with a hole above his bed. What will you do when it rains? Or snows?”

He laughed, a glorious sound that rumbled up from his chest and warmed her from head to toe. Maker, if only she could hear him laugh like that more often. “Then I suppose I shall have to move my bed, won’t I?” His eyes twinkled with mirth, an infectious smile creasing his face.

“I suppose you shall, “ she rejoined, a smile of her own crossing her lips.

He rested his head on one upturned palm, elbow on the table. “I love your smile. You should do it more often,” he said, and just like that, the flutters were back in her stomach.

She reached blindly for something, anything, to turn the conversation away from the current topic and mood. “I —uh — there’s something that you wanted to discuss?”

That did it. The smile fell from his lips, and she immediately mourned its loss. “I —yes. There is something I need to tell you.” He got up and crossed to his bedside table. He opened the drawer, pulled something out and returned to the table with it. Resuming his seat, he set it down in front of her. “Do you know what that is?”

She eyed the small, rectangular box carefully. Reaching out a hand, she opened it and inside, she saw a vial filled with an unmistakable bright blue liquid as well as a pouch and some other implements she could not name. “I-is that lyrium?”

“Yes.  You know that I used to be a Templar, right?” She nodded, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “When a Templar takes his vows, he is given his first philter of lyrium. It grants us our powers, but it enslaves us as well. We are each given a lyrium kit  — this one is mine.”

“Lyrium? But if you’re not a mage! It would be really addictive! “

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Indeed. It is quite addictive, and the Chantry controls the lyrium trade, so it keeps its Templars in line. “ He looked at her with serious golden eyes. “When I left the Order, I decided to leave it all behind — including lyrium. I no longer take it. “

“But Commander, trying to stop —it could kill you. “

“it hasn’t yet. It’s been months now. “

She ran her gaze over him and suddenly, it all made sense. “So your illness is due to withdrawal? “

“Yes. It seems to be a chronic thing, at least with me. The number of Templars who have successfully quit is rare enough that there is no way to know if my symptoms and progression are typical. “

She remained silent for a moment while she considered his words. Maker, lyrium. She didn’t know a lot of about it, but she knew it was extremely bad for non-mages.  Finally, she nodded her head and said “I respect what you are trying to do. I will treat you as long as you have need of it.”

He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the back of his chair, and let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Eala. Your understanding means more than you know.”

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Eala was in the library researching the effects of lyrium. What little information there was wasn’t very good, at least for the Commander’s long-term health. She made notes in her journal, quickly filling up pages with anything helpful she found.

She shoved the book she was skimming over away from her with a little frustrated growl. In this immense library there simply had to be some better information! She was about to go searching for other books when the sound of a rich, cultured voice stopped her.

“If you’re looking for better information on lyrium, you might want to send to Tevinter for in-depth studies.”  She looked up to find the Tevinter mage standing next to the table she had commandeered for her research.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And how do you know I am looking for information on lyrium, and why should what I am doing interest you?” Her cheeks flamed brilliantly, but she held her ground as she stared up at the handsome dark-haired mage.

He sighed theatrically, placing one beringed hand over his heart. “You wound me,  Mistress Eala, isn’t it? It’s not a mystery, you know. I know you are treating Commander Cullen. I know he is an ex-Templar, and,” he tapped one of the books on the table, “all of these books here include information on lyrium. Ergo, you are searching for information to help him — an endeavor which I applaud.”

“All right, assuming your motives are benign, how and where would I send to Tevinter for this information?”

He laughed. “I can get it for you, my dear healer. And in the meantime, have a look at this.” He laid a thick volume in front of her. “That is from my personal library, and you’ll find some quite interesting and obscure information about lyrium addiction and withdrawals in there.” She eyed him askance, and he laughed again.”Don’t worry. I like the Commander, too, and want to see him taken care of like he deserves.”

“Well, thank you, Master Pavus,” she tilted her head toward him. “I am sure this will be helpful.”

He smiled at her, and as he turned to leave, he said “Keep an eye on Cullen, will you? Don’t let him kill himself for the Inquisition. I fear our dear Lysarah doesn’t…well, let’s leave it that she doesn’t always see the value in what she has. Good day.”

Eala watched him leave with a frown. What could he possibly mean by that? He appeared sincere in his desire to be helpful, but it could still be a ruse to pry more information out of her that he could relay to the Inquisitor.

Opening the book the mage left her, she bit her lip as she turned to the section on lyrium and began to read.  At first, the information much very similar to what she had already read, so she flipped forward impatiently until she came across a passage that mentioned how the Templars in Tevinter did not take lyrium like Templars in the south did because — oh Maker — if taken regularly by non-mages,  it binds to the bones, joints, cartilage, and even nerves. The longer the non-mage takes lyrium, and the higher the dose, the more it becomes bound up in the tissues of the body.  

Her heart sank as she closed the book and pushed it away from her. The Commander’s health was in an even more tenuous state than she had first thought, that much was clear. Tears pricked her lids as she remembered her father, lying so thin and frail upon his deathbed.

_She could almost smell the sour scent of sickness that permeated the room and the herbs her mother used to try and mask the odor. The setting sun sent beams of golden light through the open window, and outside she could hear the calls of the fishermen as they returned to shore with the day’s catch.  That’s what her father would be doing — should be doing if he wasn’t lying there in this bed, lips cracked and bleeding, cheeks sunken and gaunt. She reached out a young hand and closed her fingers over his. She felt the bones, lying so close under his skin; it felt thin as paper and just as fragile._

Eala shook the memory off, suddenly aware that her cheeks were damp with tears and that her fists were clenched at her sides. Outside, the bells chimed: it was time for the Commander’s treatment.

* * *

 

When she pulled open his office door ( he had long since given her permission to come and go as she liked), she thought that perhaps she should nonetheless knock in the future. Because standing between the Commander’s legs as he sat on the edge of his desk, one claw-tipped hand carding through his hair while the other was buried under his shirt was the Inquisitor. The two were kissing, lost in each other’s embrace, the sounds of their mouths meeting, lips sucking at the other’s carrying through the tower.

Stunned, Eala could only watch as the Commander’s hand pressed against the Inquisitor’s back and pushed her forward — closer to him as the other found the bottom of her tiny top and snaked underneath. The sound of his passioned groan brought her out of her stupor. Maker, what was she doing, watching them as she stood in the doorway!

She must have made a sound as she backed away because the couple pulled apart abruptly as the Commander stood, twin spots of color flaming high on his cheeks. The Inquisitor just wrapped an arm around his shoulders and smirked, tossing back her white blond curls, as if she hadn’t just been caught making out with her Commander.

“Vhenan, it looks like it’s time for your treatment.” She gave his shoulders a squeeze before dropping her arm and slipping away. Her eyes roved up and down his tall form. “I’d best let you get to it. We wouldn’t want our Commander to have to take to his bed tomorrow because of his _illness_.”

There was a snide tone in her voice that Eala didn’t like, and the Commander seemed to shrink from it, his cheeks growing redder as his gaze remained focused on the floor. “Yes, well — I’ll see you tomorrow, then Lysarah, ” he said without looking up.

“Good night, Cullen,” Inquisitor Lysarah said and nodded at Eala as she passed her. She snapped her fingers, her long nails clicking together as she lifted the other hand to point one dagger-tipped finger toward the man still standing by his desk. “Take care of him.”

Even after the Inquisitor left, Eala remained where she stood, stock still and mute. That — that had been unexpected. She knew that the Inquisitor and the Commander were getting closer all the time, but she did not imagine that he would — that he would have been this far into it with her while he was still — Eala shook herself off. Thinking thoughts like that would get her nowhere. She had a job to do.

“Well, Commander,” she snapped as she walked away from the door. “Shall we proceed?”

“I —uh — I must have lost track of time. Forgive me.”  He looked up at her then down again, his cheeks still pink. He rubbed the back of his neck. “But, yes, I suppose we should begin. “

Upstairs, she waited while he got undressed and climbed into his bed. She could hear the crickets chirping through the hole in his roof as she wondered how far his relationship with the Inquisitor had progressed. Were they sleeping together? It seemed likely, given the embrace she had just interrupted.

“You are quiet tonight,” he observed from behind her. She heard him drop his clothes into the laundry pile that he kept in one corner of his room and the creak of the floorboards under his feet as he crossed to the bed. “I-I hope we did not offend you with that scene down there. I-if we did, I do apologize for it — time did, ah, get away from me.”

Eala took a deep breath before replying. “It’s fine, Commander. You don’t need to apologize to me.  Are you in bed yet?” She winced as she heard the edge she couldn’t quite keep out of her voice.

There was the rustle of bed sheets, then a soft sigh as he settled himself on his mattress. “All right,” he said, and she turned around to find him lying on his stomach, the sheets pulled up to the tops of his hips.

Silently, she picked up the jar of cream and knelt down at his side to begin applying the pleasant-smelling liniment to his shoulders and back. The heady scent and the feel of the man lying beneath her massaging hands calmed and centered her. They were friends. She could be Cullen Rutherford’s friend.

As she worked, he sighed and wriggled his shoulders. “I —ah — wanted to ask you something. “

“What did you want to ask? “

“Well, you know that I am taking the bulk of the army into the Western Approach at the end of the month. I would like you to accompany me — as a  personal attendant. I hate to tie up your services, but you know my back, and my hips have been especially troublesome of late. “ He winced and groaned as she dug into the knots where his lower back joined his hips.“By the Maker, that is good. I’m afraid that the ride there will kill me if I do not have your hands to keep me going. “

A snide voice inside her urged her to tell him to have the Inquisitor care for him instead. She squelched the words down and focused instead on the way her stomach fluttered at the thought of being with him away from Skyhold, being with him throughout the day and into the night.  She thought of riding beside him, chatting with him en route, and putting her hands on him to soothe his aches at the end of every day.  Like every other time with this man, there was only one answer she could give:

“I would be happy to, Commander,” and there was no way that she could keep the happiness out of her voice. No way that she could stop the swell of emotion welling in her chest and burning in her cheeks. To have him to herself for the journey — aside from him carrying out his duties, of course. To have no other duty herself but to care for him. It was as if the Maker had granted her a boon.

He turned over in bed, careful to keep the sheets tucked in around his waist and took her hands in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed the knuckles of each one before tucking them against his warm chest. “Thank you, Eala. You are Maker sent to care for me as you do.” Suddenly, he tugged her down until she was sprawled across his chest and he was hugging her tightly, his mouth near her ear pressing soft kisses to the side of her head. “But you must stop using my title, especially when we are alone,” he growled into her ear. “Can you do that for me?”

She wriggled in his arms, his breathing tickling her ear, but she did not pull away. Instead, she sighed into his chest, feeling the hair there prickle against her lips. “All right, Cullen,” she said, and she was rewarded with another tight hug.

He pushed her back far enough that he could reach down and tip her chin up so he could see her face. He raised his head far enough to gently kiss her forehead, her nose, and her lips. “That’s my girl,” he said, as he lay his head back on his pillows with a sigh, tucking her in against him once again.

For the second time that night, Eala was stunned silent. The Comm — Cullen had just kissed her. On the lips. She sighed and buried her face into his chest, too happy in the moment to consider what it might mean.

 


	5. War Bellows Blazing in Scarlet Battalions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Eala's relationship continues to deepen as she accompanies him on the road to Adamant. However, a couple of unwanted guests tag along, and Eala is sure that trouble is brewing for her handsome, but tormented Commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite long, with a lot of story unfolding. I actually had to split it up because it was getting way too long — and still it's probably the longest chapter I have ever written. Anyway, the next chapter is half-written already, so the next update shouldn't take as long as this one did!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who has been following this fic and who has left kudos and shared your thoughts in the comments. Every one of you blows me away with your support, and it fills my heart with the unquenchable desire to keep writing.
> 
> Urgh - I knew I should have given this another once-over before I published it. Edited for a few awkward phrasing here and there. There's probably more, which I will edit out as I go.

Eala squatted by the river and dipped a bucket into the swiftly running water.  As she pulled it from the water, she glanced up at the sky and noted that the sun was beginning to dip beyond the western horizon. Cullen would be finishing up with camp inspections soon and be ready for a quick wash before supper.

As she started walking back to his tent, she heard rustling coming from the bushes to her right. Stopping, she listened for the sounds again, but the only noise she could hear was that of the soldiers finishing their preparations for the night. She shrugged and continued on; it must have been some small animal frightened off by the presence of so many people.

As she ducked beneath the flap of his tent and set the bucket of water down beside his bathing kit, she smiled as she thought about how his face would light up when he saw that she had brought him some water to wash with. While he didn’t require it of her, she enjoyed doing for him all the same. Traveling on horseback every day was quite grueling for him in his condition, and she wanted to do anything she could to make the journey easier for him.

Pulling out her small notebook, she found a stick of lead and sat down on the Commander’s bed to wait for his return. She had taken to sketching the scenery they had passed during that day’s ride to pass the time. Eyeing her work critically, she added more shading to the distant mountains and added a few more trees to the gently sloping hills in the foreground.

Pausing, she brushed her lips with the fingers of one hand and that whisper of a touch called to mind The Kiss, as she was now calling it. There had been no repeat of that event, not that she had truly expected there would be. He had most likely been overcome with emotion when it happened; he couldn’t have meant anything by it.

Oh, but how she longed for him to do it again. She recalled the taste of his lips; the hint of peppermint from the potions he took for his headaches and the tang of a flavor that was all his own. She licked her lips, imagining reaching out with her tongue to trace the boundaries of the scar in the upper right corner of his mouth. Her breathing roughened and heartbeat started picking up speed, a rush of warmth flooding her core, making her clench her thighs together. Maker, these thoughts were beyond inappropriate and —

“Maker’s breath, what an exhausting day!” Cullen entered the tent, immediately working on the clasps and ties that held his armor in place. In deference to the heat and the rigors of travel, he wore a much lighter armor set of a simple, abbreviated chest and back plate without pauldrons, worn over a light shirt, and simplified vambraces that just protected his forearms. He set his traveling armor on a rack in one corner of the tent, and he turned to her. “How in Thedas do you always manage to look so cool and composed when the rest of us are red in the face and sweating ?”

She shrugged, her cheeks coloring. “I-I don’t know. I-er-brought you some water to wash with,” she tilted her head toward the bucket.

“Thank you, but you know you do not have to do that. I am not yet so decrepit that I cannot fetch my own water. “ He laughed, but there was an edge to it that made her look up at him. He stood still before his armor stand, his golden eyes shuttered and far away. She wondered what he was thinking of to make him look so forlorn.

The sound of a neighing horse from across the camp cut through the air and seemed to break whatever spell had befallen the Commander. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk as he strode over to the bed and plopped down beside her, working at the buttons of his shirt. He peered down at the drawing in her lap, raising an eyebrow.

“What is this? Are these the Frostbacks?” He traced the jagged lines of the peaks on the paper with one blunt finger, and when she nodded her head, his smirk broadened into a full grin. He put an arm around her shoulders and lightly squeezed her against him. “Maker, are your talents unending? This is beautiful.” She let him pick up her notebook to study the drawing more closely. “We left the mountains behind long ago, and yet you remember them in such detail.”

The awe in his voice warmed her as much as the heat of his big body sitting so close to her did. “Why do you say such things,” she finds herself asking, a rush of embarrassment reddening her cheeks. When he spoke to her that way, she forgot everything except for the way he made her heart race and the tingles his barest touch triggered in her body.

“Because it is true.” He turned toward her and caught her chin in his hand and eyes of liquid gold met those of chocolate brown. “You are a very special woman, Eala, and you deserve to be appreciated. I —“ He sighed. “Maker’s breath, please forgive my ineptitude with words — but — you are special to me also.”

Maker, the way he looked at her with those eyes, and the way the soft cadence of his voice, so deep and masculine rumbled up from his chest and filled her ears. The words slipped from her, unbidden “You are special to me, too.”  She turned her face up to him as he started to lean forward —

“Commander,” called a voice from just outside the tent.

Cullen dragged a hand over his face. “Maker’s breath! My day is never done, it seems.” He chuckled ruefully as he rose to his feet. “I’ll see you later?”

Eala straightened her clothing and patted down her hair. “Of course. You’d best see what that soldier wants,” she said, keeping her gaze focused on the floor.  She should be glad, shouldn’t she, that the moment hadn’t been allowed to proceed. So, why did she feel so unsettled —

“Hey,” he tucked a finger under her chin to tip her face toward his. “You are remarkable. Do not forget that.” He kissed her nose before dropping his hand and quitting the tent.

Eala stared at the closed tent flap, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. She tried to force them, and everything else back, but despair filled her as she realized that it was far too late for that; Cullen Rutherford had already become much more than a friend, but what was she to him? A soft whimper left her because she already knew the answer.

* * *

 

Eala watched Cullen ride up and down the long caravan of soldiers, horses, supply wagons, and siege equipment,  his golden eyes sharp and intent as he searched for laggards or breaks in the formation he had set them to. They had gotten off to a late start that morning thanks to a combination of problems.  One of the supply wagons had a cracked wheel, which had to be repaired, and some of the men had gotten a little too drunk during the night and, in their inebriated state,  had set fire to their tents. All of this, combined with the fact that the Commander was fighting a migraine, made him very grumpy, indeed, and now he had set a punishing pace to make up for the time they had lost.

She pulled her horse along side his as he settled in line behind one of the wagons. “How is your headache,” she asked, peering into his face.

He turned his head briefly to squint at her then returned his gaze to the road ahead, raising a hand to rub the left side of his forehead. “It’s been better,” he admitted.

The tense line of his shoulders and grim set of his mouth told her everything he had not.  “Cullen,” she placed a gentle hand on his bicep. “You need to lie down for a while. Let’s stop for a rest.”

“Now? You can’t be serious,” he growled, his expression darkening. “We’ve already been waylaid hours this morning by nonsense, I’ll not be the cause of any further delays!”

“Cullen —“

A loud cracking sound coming from the wagon ahead of them interrupted their conversation.  Cullen frowned and gave a sharp whistle. “Halt,” he bellowed into the air, the sound of his voice carrying down the line, as his officers took up the cry and within seconds, the entire caravan halted in place. 

Jumping off his horse, he stalked over to the offending wagon and circled it, carefully inspecting it for the source of that noise. He evidently didn’t find anything, because he scratched his head and started walking back to his horse, grumbling under his breath when a louder crack sounded. He whirled around in time to watch the entire conveyance collapse, dumping tents, foodstuffs, and two squirming bodies on the dusty road.

Everyone who was near enough in the line to see what had happened stood in shocked amazement as the two bedraggled female figures sat coughing amid the piles of supplies.  As they wiped flour and dust off their faces and tossed back hair mired in muck, the two girls glared at each other and their audience.

“What in the bloody Void is going on here?” Cullen, far from being as stunned as the rest of the onlookers,  grabbed the two stowaways with a firm grip around each of their forearms and hauled them to their feet. “Who are you and what are you doing in one of my supply wagons?”

Two pairs of eyes looked up at him with apprehension, one set blue, and the other green, and it was then that Eala recognized them. Jocelyn and Heather. A chill encased her heart in ice. 

“Please don’t be too angry with our boys, Commander,” Jocelyn wheedled, her voice high pitched and annoying. Cullen’s left eye twitched. “We insisted they bring us.”

The Commander’s eyebrows lowered as he pierced the two girls with cold golden eyes. Eala could tell that he was holding back his anger by the muscle ticking in his jaw. “I am going to ask just once,” he said through clenched teeth. “Who snuck you onto this supply wagon?”

Heather swallowed and trembled in Cullen’s grasp. “James Herring and Peter Marshal, Ser. But, please don’t punish them,” she wailed, and Eala almost felt sorry for her.

“All right, “ said Cullen as he dropped the two girls’ arms. “Let’s get this — mess cleaned up. You, there, grab some of these supplies and let’s distribute them amongst the other drays. At once!” He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and leaning his head back before spearing the two interlopers again with his gaze.”As for you two, you might as well help move these supplies. I will determine what to do with you after we make camp.”

“Yes, Ser,” the two said in unison, although Heather shot Eala a look that promised trouble later on.

* * *

 

Cullen chose to set up camp in open field near a thick copse of trees which was not too far away from where the wagon had broken down. As it was every time the army made camp, he was consumed with the logistics of overseeing such a large force en route. As Eala helped the soldiers set up his tent, she caught mere glimpses of the man as he quickly moved around the unfolding encampment. At one point, she saw him rubbing his neck and rolling it back and forth as he listened to one of his officers.She longed to go to him and bid him lie down so that she could tend him, but she knew he would not welcome her solicitude now.

The causes of the Commander’s current concerns sat in front of their boyfriends’ tents and were munching on some bread and cheese while they waited for him to have time to deal with them. The blonde and the redhead did not seem at all worried, and it set Eala’s teeth on edge. What in Thedas were these two little trollops doing here? Ducking inside Cullen’s tent, she put the problem from her mind as she set about preparing his headache potion. 

An hour or so later, Cullen appeared at the entrance to the tent with a group of his officers. He looked wrecked: his face was pale and wan, and the purplish circles around his eyes were much more prominent. Eala made herself as unobtrusive as possible while the men filed in around the Commander’s makeshift desk. As she fiddled with her notebook, she listened half-heartedly to the men's conversation, hoping that it would be over soon so she could give him his potion and have him lie down for a while.

“Captain Geoffrey, set a detail to harvest some lumber and Captain Briony, your team will be in charge of processing the wood and making the repairs.” Cullen straightened up from his position leaning against his desk and sighed. “That will be all for now. Please call in Sers Harring, Marshall, and those two females.”

“Yes, Ser!” The officers saluted their Commander and began to file out while Cullen stood, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.

“Maker save me,” she heard him say under his breath as he twisted his neck from side to side, but he straightened his posture when his tent flap opened, and Jocelyn, Heather, and their two accomplices shuffled in.

Cullen stood tall and imposing, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the sheepish quartet.  A tell-tale muscle jumped in his jaw, informing Eala that in the hours since the wagon’s collapse, his temper had not settled at all.

 “What have you to say for yourselves,” he growled as he glared at the two young men who looked like they would rather be anywhere else than standing where they were. “We are marching to war, not a Sunday tea party — your stunt has cost us valuable time!”

“Commander, Ser, we are sorry, Ser,” the dark-haired soldier said quickly. “We take full responsibility for sneaking the girls in, Ser, please don’t punish them.”

“What in the Void were you thinking,” Cullen thundered, then, as if all the anger had been drained from him, he sighed heavily and shook his head. “All right, the two of you are on latrine duty for the remainder of this mission — is that clear?”

“Yes Ser,” the two men said and bowed their heads in appropriate shame.

The Commander then turned his attention to the two women who were standing beside their partners in crime. “As for you two — not only will you help Cook prepare the meals on this mission, but you will also clean and fetch whenever we make camp.”

“But Ser,” cried Heather, “Such tasks make no use of our talents. We are healers. Surely —“

“Silence,” he roared,  ruddy color suffusing his face and a feral snarl twisting his features. “By the Maker, since you have foisted yourselves upon my army, you will make yourselves useful in any way that I command!  Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Ser,” the two girls acquiesced, heads lowered.

“Dismissed!”

The subdued group of four shuffled out of the tent, but not before Eala saw Jocelyn throw her a venomous glance under her lashes. Eala shivered as she wondered why those two were here and what they hoped to gain.

As soon as they left, Cullen seemed to sag and Eala went to him to help him to sit on the edge of his bed. “Are you all right?” She felt his forehead and her hand came away damp with his sweat. “Maker, you’re soaked!”

“My head hurts.” His brows drew together in a grimace, and he groaned as he stretched out on his back. “So tired.”

“Oh, Cullen,” she whispered, rising to her feet to fetch the headache potion she had made earlier. “Can you sit up for me?” At his nod, she gave him the potion and watched as he sat up and swallowed it down before collapsing back onto the bed.

She took the empty bottle from him, then working quickly, got his traveling armor off him — thank the Maker he wasn’t wearing his full plate set, or she’d have never managed it —then took off his boots and unbuttoned his shirt to help him get comfortable. The grateful groan that left him after she had covered his eyes with a damp cloth and wiped down his face, neck, and chest with another made her glad she was here to take care of him.

As she was leaving Cullen’s tent after making sure that he was comfortably resting, she ran into Heather who had apparently been standing outside of the Commander’s tent — for how long, Eala couldn’t guess. Eala narrowed her eyes as she looked up at the taller woman. “What do you want, Heather?”

A nasty grin turned up Heather’s red lips. “Why, I need to speak with the Commander. Is he in?”

For some reason, she did not think it was wise to reveal anything out Cullen’s condition to this woman. Eala crossed her arms over her chest and said in a firm tone “The Commander has asked that he not be disturbed. He is in the middle of some important work.”

“Is that so? Well, tell him I need to see him at once.”

Eala rolled her eyes. “Did you not hear me say that the Commander is not to be disturbed?”

“Well, tell him that I want to talk to him when he’s not — _indisposed._ ” 

Eala shivered, even in the warmth of the afternoon sun as she watched the blonde strut back to her boyfriend’s tent. That woman was trouble, but what kind of trouble, she couldn’t say. Heading over to the broken wagon to offer her help, Eala vowed to keep an eye on Heather and Jocelyn.

 

* * *

 

It took them an additional week to reach the Western Approach and three days after that to reach the area about a mile or so from Adamant where Cullen wanted to set up the army’s main encampment. Closer to Adamant, he ordered a forward operating base set up and staffed on a rotational basis.

As Eala walked through the tent-city that spread across the sandy valley, she could sense the soldiers’ anticipation for the coming battle. Everywhere she looked, Cullen’s captains and lieutenants drilled their men, and those soldiers not engaged in training were hauling supplies to where they were needed along the packed dirt roadways that formed a grid of streets throughout the encampment.

Eala paused to scan the area around her with narrowed eyes. Satisfied that no one was following her, she continued on her way, swinging the bucket of cold water she carried and whistling a tune.  Ahead of her the siege engines loomed, towering high above the desert floor.  The Commander and a crew of his men had been calibrating the trebuchets all morning, and she was sure he would be quite thirsty by now.   

As she climbed onto the control deck of one of the trebuchets, she could see the Commander bent over its controls,  fiddling with something while he shouted out instructions to the men standing on the other side of the contraption. As she approached, he straightened, and she could see that he had removed his shirt in deference to the hot desert sun. He went around shirtless quite a lot, actually, much to her delight.  His gorgeous torso glistened with sweat; she could she droplets of it nestled in his pale blond chest hair. Maker, but he was so beautiful that he made her heart hurt.

Her heart tripping over in her chest, she walked up to him and proferred the bucket of water to him. He raised an eyebrow and smiled his thanks as he picked up the ladle and spooned some of the cool water into his mouth. She watched as his Adam’s apple worked in his strong, stubble-covered throat as he swallowed.

“Maker, that’s divine! Thank you, I needed that.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You are an angel to carry this all the way out here for me.” Then he took the ladle and drank more water before turning around and calling for his men to come and have a drink as well. Behind her, she heard snickering, but when she looked all she caught sight of was a flash of red hair ducking around the nearest tent.

She looked up at Cullen, wondering if she should tell him about it. This hadn’t been the only time since Jocelyn and Heather had joined them that she caught one or both of them watching her and the Commander. But what could she say? She still hadn’t figured out their purpose in even being here, let alone determined why they would watch her and the Commander in the first place. She blushed as she thought about Jocelyn watching the Commander’s open affection for her. Cullen certainly was not shy about that!

“Well,” he said, giving the machine a pat on the side. “I think these are calibrated and ready for battle.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Now all I have to do is inspect our weapons and shields, and then, troop inspections —“

“Commander!” A soldier appeared at Cullen’s side holding a stack of papers. “Ser! Knight-Captain Rylen is here with a contingent from Griffon Wing Keep.”

“Very good, thank you. Tell the Captain that I will speak with him shortly.” He turned to Eala, with a heavy sigh. “There’s always more to do. I’ll see you tonight, all right? “

Eala nodded. “All right. I’ll leave this with you, “ she indicated the water. She glanced behind her, then turned to smile at Cullen before hopping down from the trebuchet’s deck.

 

* * *

 As the setting sun painted the sky with pinks, yellows, and mauves,  Eala meandered toward Cullen’s tent from the healer’s  where she had been helping out with cutting up and folding bandages. The sounds of the soldiers engaging in games of chance and telling ribald stories around the fire floated in the air, and the scent of cooking meat from the mess tent teased her nostrils, reminding her that it was time for supper.

She hoped that she would find Cullen resting rather than in the command tent, scowling over the map of Adamant. But of course,  when she got there, the infuriating man was bent over the map, the walls of the command tent peeled back to allow in the cool evening breeze.  Brows furrowed, he rubbed the back of his neck as he studied the map

“Cullen,” she said, coming up beside him and placing a small hand over his much larger one. “Come. It’s past time for supper and your treatment .”

He glanced at her and straightened himself with a grimace. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back against his hand. “Maker, is that late already? I must have forgotten the time. Well.” He smiled at her and offered his hand. “Let’s have supper then, and afterward I want to show you something.”

“What are you going on about now, you silly man,” she told him with an exasperated smile, although in truth, she would do anything to make him smile at her like that. When he did, it turned her insides to jelly. “You know you need your treatment straight away.”

 “Ah, my sweet, conscientious Eala.” He winked at her. “ Fear not, love, you can give me my treatment where I am taking you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford, what are you up to?”

“Me? Why, nothing, nothing at all.  I am innocent!”

They laughed and made their way to the mess tent together.

 

* * *

 After supper, Cullen asked her to gather a blanket and some things from the tent while he saw to something. She sighed in playful exasperation, thinking he had gone off to see to something related to the army or the coming battle. However, she was surprised when she exited the tent holding the bag she had packed with a blanket and some cheese and fruit to see that standing outside the tent was the Commander’s horse, a blanket over its back, with the Commander himself standing at its head, talking soothingly to it.

“Am I to walk then?” she asked archly.

He grinned at her. “No.” Then he lifted her effortlessly in his arms and set her on the back of his horse.

“You will NOT walk, either!” She crossed her arms over the bag in her lap.

He shook his head no, then held one finger up in a bid for her to wait, then slipped into the tent. He was back in a few seconds with another bundle in his arms, which he tucked into her bag then dropped it back in her lap. Then he swung up behind her, wrapping one arm around her middle as he took the reins. He kicked the horse into a trot, and soon they were headed out of the camp.

The moon rose above the tawny hills surrounding them as Cullen guided the horse onward. Every so often, he brushed his lips over the top of her head, causing tingles to race up and down her spine. She could feel his strong naked chest at her back and the warm press of him against her arse.

Unable to help herself, she leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She looked up at his profile,  admiring the crisp, clean lines of his face: the strong nose, carved cheekbones, and defined jawline. Maker, he was like the golden heroes out of the storybooks her mother used to read her when she was little.

He smiled down at her and winked when he noticed her observing him. “We’re almost there,” he told her, giving her waist a gentle squeeze.

“Where is there?” She sat forward, craning her neck as she looked around. They had ridden into a small ravine, with huge boulders towering over them on either side.

“So impatient,” he scolded, but there was no heat behind his words. He turned the horse into the nook of a rocky outcropping and halted. “And here we are.”

Eala surveyed her surroundings as he dismounted, then lifted her down from the horse. An open crevice in the rocks emitted cooler air, and the scent of — was it water?  She stepped closer to it but didn’t go in,  waiting for Cullen to finish hobbling the horse.

Cullen returned to her side and lit a torch, gesturing for her to enter the cave. It was dark inside, but the cooler air felt heavenly on her hot cheeks, and she could hear the sound of running water somewhere ahead of her. As Cullen stepped in behind her with the lit torch, the chamber was revealed.

She gasped as she stepped forward, touching the stalagmites poking up from the ground. The cave formed a wide chamber with a spring running through it which fed into a pool of bubbling water at the very back. Large stones ringed the pond and on a ledge above the roiling water was a lantern. Several candles were scattered around the edges of the pool, as well.

“What is this place?” Her voice was filled with wonder as she wandered deeper into the cavern.

“Do you like it,” Cullen asked, coming up beside her and wrapping a muscular arm around her waist.

She nodded vigorously. “Yes. It’s beautiful, but when did you —“

“Our scouts found it during one of their forays, and I thought it would be — nice to have a real bath after so many weeks on the road.” He left her side to light the lantern and the candles before extinguishing the torch. The flickering candlelight played along the curves of his muscled arms and chest, highlighting every delicious dip and peak and picking up and defining every pale gold hair on his body.

Her eyes went wide. “But —“

He chuckled and took off his sword belt, leaning the sword against an outcropping of stalagmites. “Well, love, I do not know about you, but after weeks of washing with naught but a bucket and cloth,  that water looks far too inviting to pass up this chance.” His fingers made quick work of his belt buckle and started in on his laces. She turned around, her cheeks flaming so brightly, she was sure he would be able to see them even in the dim light.

“Cullen! You — you — can’t! ‘Tis unseemly,” she protested, but he evidently paid her no mind because she heard the tell-tale splash behind her of him getting into the pool. “Maker’s breath, Cullen!” She cringed as she imagined what he must look like, completely naked in that water. He was _right there_. Wearing not a stitch! She could turn around right now and take him in: she could look her fill, and no one would be any wiser. Well, except for him. Oh, Maker!

“Ahh, Maker, this water feels divine. Will you not join me, sweetheart?” More splashing sounded as he made himself comfortable. He sounded so matter-of-fact as if they were taking tea in the tavern.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she turned around to find him sitting on what appeared to be an underwater ledge on the far side of the pool. The water wasn’t very deep, coming just beneath his chest while he was seated. She could see the suggestion of his naked lower half, but the dim lighting and the bubbling water made it difficult to make out any details. Not that she was looking!

Biting her lip, she considered her options: she could remain dry while he bathed, but the chance of a real bath where she could submerge herself was simply too tempting to pass up, even if it meant having company while she did so. They were friends, right? Friends bathed together, did they not? Besides, in the dim light, she could slip in and out of the water without revealing too much of herself to him.

“All right,” she told the man who was lounging indolently in the bubbling waters.  “I shall join you, but only if you promise to close your eyes while I undress and get in the water.”

“Anything you wish, my lady,” he said, bowing his head in obeisance, then promptly shutting his eyes.

Keeping one eye on Cullen, Eala quickly removed her dress and the light shift she wore beneath it. “Keep them closed,” she ordered, as she pinned her braid in a loose bun at her nape, then slid quietly into the water. When she was satisfied that her naked form was completely concealed, she said: “Okay, you can open them.”

The water, which probably came up to his waist when he was standing, came up to her shoulders, and he was right: it did feel divine. Warm, but not overly so, it slid deliciously over her body, it's high mineral content immediately softening her skin. She took a few moments to paddle around the pool; it wasn’t really big enough to swim in, but she wanted to buy some time while she considered where she should sit. Should she stay on the opposite side of the pool from him?

Cullen seemed to have his own ideas, however. “Come here, love, “ he beckoned, patting the water at his side “I cannot talk to you properly when you’re so far away.”

She observed him silently. He was leaning back against the rocks, his eyes closed and his arms stretched out on either side of him. He looked quite at home in the water and much more relaxed than she had seen him in an Age. Inhaling sharply, she crossed the pond to his side and found a ledge that was a little higher up than the one he on which he sat. It allowed her to comfortably sit with her head and neck above the waterline, while the rest of her remained concealed under the water.

Cullen opened one eye and smirked at her. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes, but it is still unseemly.”

“Sod unseemly,” he rejoined, his brows drawing together over glinting golden eyes. “We’ve been in close quarters for weeks, sweetling. Think of it as part of my therapy, if it eases your mind,” his voice trailed off into a long groan as he rolled his shoulders and winced. “But as for me, I find nothing wrong with two adults having a bath together.” He inclined his head toward the bag on the edge of the pool beside his head. “Reach into that bag, will you, and grab the wine.”

She gulped. “W-wine?”

 “Something wrong with a bit of wine?” Cullen raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his muscular chest.

His tone told her that arguing that even the best of friends did not share a bottle of wine while bathing nude together, at least not where she came from, would be futile. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the bag and tugged it closer to her. Inside, she found a bottle of Tevinter wine and two goblets. She took these out and set them on the pool’s edge between them. She also found a bar of soap and some towels, which she plucked out and set aside for later.

After he had poured them each a glass, he settled back against the rocks and sighed. “Maker, now this is heaven. I’m not sure I want to go back to camp.”

“You say that now, but I know you wouldn’t last even one day away from your precious troops and strategy plans,” she retorted as she took the goblet from him.

“Mmm, you may be right. But it is a nice fantasy, is it not? Just you and me in this wonderful relaxing water, no cares in the world beyond each other.”

“What?” Eala felt dizzy all of a sudden like she couldn’t get enough oxygen. “Did you — did you say that you —“

He looked at her with smoldering golden eyes, eyes that seemed to search deep into her soul, as he sat up and leaned forward, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, sweetheart: in my perfect world, you would be with me, and we would share its delights together. Is that so difficult to believe?”

Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths as she tried to calm her racing heart. Get a hold of yourself, Eala. He’s talking fantasy, though why he would be fantasizing about her, she would never understand.

“Uhm, okay, I guess that’s a nice fantasy,” she croaked, pulling away from him to wet her throat with a sip of wine. “But why not the Inquisitor?”

Instead of returning to his previous position, Cullen scooted closer to her. He leaned in and brushed her lips with his. “Oh, it’s much more than a fantasy, sweetheart, and that’s the other reason I brought you here. I am tired of dancing around this — thing between us. In a few days time, we’ll assault Adamant Fortress, and I have no way of knowing if I will survive. I could not let this opportunity go by to let you know what you mean to me.”

“No,” she whispered, dropping her gaze and pulling away from him. “No, no, no.”   Tears streaming down her cheeks, she snatched up the soap and turned away to slip into the deeper water in the center of the pool. What he was saying was impossible! There was no way in Thedas that his Golden-ness could want frumpy, dumpy her. And what did he mean he may not survive? Eala shook her head and submerged completely in the water. When she surfaced, her hair streaming water and coming loose around her shoulders in inky ringlets, she heard him calling to her.  

“Eala?”

She dared to look back at him. He was standing up now, a worried expression creasing his face.  “I-I’m okay, “ she called out in a tremulous voice. “I j-just need to wash, I’ll be done in a moment.” She hoped he would believe her and leave her be. This had been a mistake, a huge mistake. She shivered as she took her the rest of her hair out of its braid and started to scrub it with the soap.

Eala gasped when she felt his hands fall on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. Her mouth went dry. He stood before her in water that came to just above his lean waist, his muscular torso gleaming in the candlelight. He was looking down at her, his golden eyes somber.

 


	6. And Gather It All In A Bunch of Heather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eala and Cullen get even closer and when the Inquisitor arrives a few days before the Battle of Adamant, she is not too happy with what she finds. The true reason for Heather and Jocelyn's presence with the army is revealed and the Inquisitor a proposal for Eala. Will she accept?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter took me longer to finish than I thought it would because this fic has taken an unexpected turn in direction.There's nothing I can do about that but write what the voices in my head — er — my muses tell me. Anyway, be warned, there be smut in this chapter, lots of delicious smut, so if you don't like descriptions of naked Cullen, then skip this chapter...hehe. 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who is following this fic or has left comments and kudos. You make me so happy and I love you all! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“Eala.” His hands buried themselves in the thick, curling strands of her waist-length hair. “Maker, you are beautiful,” he said before he leaned down and captured her lips with his. Unlike the kiss he had given her in his loft, this one was hungry and demanding. His hands cupped her head, tilting it up toward him as he slanted his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss. She allowed him control, drowning in his scent, in his taste. This was Cullen, beautiful, perfect, golden Cullen. And he was kissing _her_. Again.

She reached up to caress the hard planes of his chest, relishing the feel of his silky chest hair and the soft skin and hard muscle beneath. One of his huge hands came around to cradle her jaw as his mouth covered hers again and again. She was spinning out of control, losing herself in his embrace, in the swirling and tingling sensuality he inspired in her.

When he finally broke the kiss, he did not let her go; he continued to hold her head, his fingers buried in her dark curls, as he leaned his forehead against hers and they both breathed in the moist air. He seemed as lost in the moment as she was. His broad chest heaved, and she could feel the strong beating of his heart under her palms.

Yet, although she could feel the heat of his body, she felt like she was drifting across a vast, surreal expanse where two plus two did not equal four. It was too much. She pushed against his chest, stumbling back as he released her, confusion clouding his golden eyes.

“What —“ he started to say, but she interrupted him as she turned away.

 “You should not have done that.”

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck as he watched her. “What? Kiss you? Tell you that you’re beautiful? What?”

She ignored him and felt around the bottom of the pond for the bar of soap with her foot, taking a deep breath before submerging to grab it. When she straightened, she tossed back her streaming curls and placed it in his hand. “Your turn,” she said, returning to her perch at the edge of the pool.

He followed her back and now stood before her, tall and imposing, the water now coming to just above his pubis. “No. Tell me: what shouldn’t I have done?”

Unwillingly, she let her eyes drift over him and her breath caught in her throat.  She could see where his body hair bloomed below his navel,  growing denser farther south on his belly. Her eyes traced the beautiful lines of his inguinal crease as it traveled down from his exposed hip bones over the planes of groin and disappeared under the water that just concealed the rest of him.

Eala blew out a frustrated breath as she tore her gaze away from him. Why did he have to make this so difficult? “Any of it. “ She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them. “You can’t —“ her voice cracked. “Not with me!” She heaved out a long sigh as tears formed in her eyes. “Besides, you’re with the Inquisitor.”

He knelt down in the water and took her chin in one hand, forcing her to look at him. “Why not you?” He traced her cheek with his fingers. “Don’t you realize yet how crazy I am about you? You are the only person who treats me like I am human. You have seen me at my worst,  weak and bedridden, yet you do not think me less of a commander — a man. “ He twined a curling skein of her hair around his finger. “Maker, look at you. You are so beautiful —  inside and out. With this glorious hair falling about your shoulders like a midnight cloak and soft brown eyes, so kind and caring for everyone, even a broken-down old ex-Templar, the real question is how could I _not_ kiss you,” his voice deepened to a low rumble, “want you?”

“You think I am beautiful?”

He pulled her toward him, and his mouth crashed down on hers in a frenzied kiss that left them both breathless. “Andraste, yes!” He bent his head to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

Her eyes squeezed shut, and a tear trailed down her cheek. She opened them to meet his golden gaze, her jaw tight. “You’re with the Inquisitor, Cullen  — even if what you say is true, we can’t do this.”

He sighed and leaned back, running one hand over his face. “No, I am not. I never made her any promises, nor has she. Anyway, we only shared a few kisses, nothing more. Do you really think that I would be here with you if it were otherwise?”

She looked into his golden eyes and saw nothing but truth in their liquid depths. Perhaps she saw only what she wanted to, but right now, with him holding her against his warm naked body, and in this place, far away from Skyhold, and even away from the army camp, she could resist him no longer.

She wrapped her arms around Cullen’s neck and raised her face to welcome his kiss. The heady pleasure of his lips covering hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth to taste her, and the pressure of his arms around her chased away any remaining doubts. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rose to his feet with her his arms and carried her out of the pool and to the blanket spread out on the pool’s edge.

Lowering her down like a precious burden, he continued to ply her lips with kisses. But when his hand found her breast, she tried to jerk away. “No,” she whispered. “They’re too — big.”

“They’re perfect,” he said as he cupped one and then the other, running his thumbs over her nipples, causing them to stiffen into hard points. He lowered his head to swirl his tongue around each one in turn. She shivered, and her breath hitched as kissed his way down her plump abdomen, down and down, to the spot between her legs that she had never touched except to wash. And then, Maker, he licked her there, his tongue running up and down her slit before settling against her pearl. She thought she would die as nibbled and licked at it. She felt dizzy as all her blood seemed to race to where he was touching her with his mouth and fingers

Sensations built on sensations, layered pleasures that started in her core and spread outward. Warmth flushed her lower body, and she unconsciously started to grind her hips up and into his face. He chuckled against her, and the vibration of it raised goosebumps all over her skin. She shuddered under him, a rising tide of bliss that threatened to overtake her.

Confused, she sat up a little to look down at the man with his head between her legs. It seemed wrong, somehow, that he was touching her there with his mouth, but it felt too good to tell him to stop. Instead, she reached down and buried her fingers in his hair and just breathed his name.

He hummed and set upon her with a fervor, his tongue flicking against her nub while his fingers probed her folds. “Oh, yes, my darling, come for me.” His voice was muffled as his face was tucked close between her thighs, but the sound of it, combined with what he was doing to her sent her tumbling over the edge. She jerked and shuddered as her climax overtook her, and her vision went white. Dimly she was aware of Cullen moving up to cradle her against his body, of his lips pressing kisses to her forehead, nose, and lips, hand carding through her wild raven curls.

When she came back to herself after a few moments, he was smiling down at her, and she thought that he’d never looked more beautiful than he did right now, the candlelight dancing in his golden eyes, his blond hair disheveled and curling, one lock falling onto his forehead. 

“My beautiful Eala,” he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face. He lowered his head to kiss her. “Mmm…I have wanted to do that for a long, long time now, did you know that?”

“I did not,” she slurred, feeling a little drunk and still a little unreal.

He laughed and kissed her again. “Well, now you do.”

His hand trailed up and down her arm, and his touch sparked fresh tingles in her body, but there was more — that rising warm feeling in her chest that she always felt when she was near him, that euphoric sense of well-being that he inspired within her — that feeling was growing and growing. Was it love?

She raised a hand to his chest, running it over his skin, relishing the feel of his hard muscles and the scratch of his body hair. Seeming to sense what she wanted without her having to say a word, he collapsed onto his back beside her with a deep sigh and closed his eyes in a silent invitation to touch him wherever she wanted.

She sat up and looked down at his naked body. Of course, she’d seen him bare-chested and nearly naked before, but this was the first time she could see every inch of his magnificent body. She trailed her hand down the line of hair on his ridged abdomen, watching as it jerked under her touch, his breath hitching. She followed the hair as it grew denser over his lower abdomen and finally to where it flared thick and golden over his groin. Nestled in the center of that patch of hair was his cock, standing proud and leaking, and below that, his sac, hanging heavy against one hairy thigh.

She paused, her hand hovering over him and looked up to find him watching her with blazing golden eyes. He smirked and placed her hand over his shaft, and instinct took over as she let her fingers circle him. Her reward was a deep groan from Cullen as he arched into her hand.

“Mmhmm, love, just like that.”

She smiled and began stroking him up and down, watching as the skin of his chest flushed and sweat broke out all over his torso. His cock was weeping more clear fluid, and after only a brief hesitation, she leaned down and ran her tongue over the head and sampled some of the fluid, causing his whole body to shudder. She rolled it around in her mouth, the salty flavor tangy and tantalizing on her palate, all the while continuing to rub him up and down.

Cullen writhed on the blanket, his hips pumping as he sought more friction. She could hardly believe the effect she was having on him. His eyes were half-shut, and he was making these delightful little grunts and groans that went straight to her core. 

He lifted his shoulders off the blanket and propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch her, his eyes going glassy with lust and his lips parted. She looked him in the eye as she deliberately picked up the pace of her motions, sweeping her thumb over the sensitive head of his cock that was now constantly weeping fluid. His spine arched from his neck to his pelvis in a long clean line, a keening moan breaking from him as the tendons of his neck and torso stood in high relief. The sight was so beautiful that her strokes faltered for a moment before resuming their previous pace. 

 “Oh, Eala,  that feels so good. So fucking good. You have no idea.”

“Cullen,” she whispered, returning her attention to his cock, which had unbelievably gotten harder still. The head had purpled with engorged blood, the clear but tacky fluid coating her fingers and dampening his pubic hair, darkening its color to old gold.

He hissed, teeth clenched together and his eyes squeezed shut as his hips thrust helplessly upward “Sweetheart, as much as I — oh Maker — as much as I am enjoying this—“ his voice faded into another hiss. “You have to stop, or I am going to spill before I can — “ he grunted “— I need to feel you around me.”

“Oh,” she squeaked as before she could even draw back, he had reversed their positions, and now he was on top of her, propped up on one muscular arm as he traced a line down her body with his other hand. His hips gently thrust against her and she could feel his hardness pressing between her legs.

“Are you sure you want this — with me?”

A frown wrinkled the smooth skin of her brow. “W-why are you asking that? Who wouldn’t want this with you?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he chuckled. “There are a few people.” Then his tone became serious again. “But I need to know, love if you want me to take you. I need the words.”

“Cullen, yes, oh yes!” She lifted up and kissed him, running her tongue across the seam of his lips, making him moan.

He closed his eyes, and she thought she heard him murmur “Thank the Maker” before he opened them again and stared down at her, the golden irises almost entirely eclipsed by his blown pupils. He inhaled a shuddering breath as he reached between her thighs. “So wet for me,” he said as he stroked her pearl. She keened and arched against him, heat and moisture pooling in her quim and flooding the rest of her body.

“Cullen,” she gasped his name, her hips thrusting up against his hand. He leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, and she felt him adjusting himself against her entrance as he continued to plunder her mouth, his tongue sliding between her lips.

He drew back from her slightly to rasp in her ear. “This might hurt a little at first, but then I promise there will be only pleasure. All right?”

She nodded her head, not trusting her own voice. His body was all muscle, heat, and hair above her, filling her world with the scent of him, with the raw maleness of him. She wanted to open to him, she wanted to give him everything. Then he was there; he thrust his hips forward and sheathed himself inside her in one stroke, and she gasped as he filled and stretched her.

Cullen groaned and arched backward, his head thrown back and his eyes tightly closed. “Sweet Maker, Eala, you feel so good.” She thought he looked magnificent, sweat making his golden skin glisten in the candlelight. Then he began to move, thrusting shallowly at first to let her get used to him, and then deeper as her body responded.

All thinking stopped for her as her awareness narrowed to just him and what was going on in her own body. Whatever discomfort she might have felt, it was now gone, and the only thing she knew was that he was inside her, closer to her than any other person had ever been in her life.

She reached up to caress his chest, her fingers twining around his chest hair as his hand slid down her body and slipped between them to find her pearl. His thumb stroked her as he slowed his thrusts to a gentle rocking motion. “Cullen,” she cried out, “I’m — I’m—“ it was happening again; there was the pressure of him thick and rigid inside her and the spiraling pleasure of his thumb making tiny circles over her nub.

He leaned back and smiled as his thumb started going faster. “Yes, love, that’s it, let it happen.”

“Oh, Cullen!” She arched against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping as the rolling waves of pleasure took her.  Heat suffused her torso as her body shook and shuddered with the power of her orgasm, and through it all, she was aware of Cullen as he started to move inside her once again.

“My sweet little love, you are so perfect, so tight,” his voice was low and rough. Then he leaned down and kissed her mouth, trailing kisses across her face and sucking at her earlobe. He hummed as he bit at the sensitive skin beneath her ear, soothing the area with a lick while his hips continued to thrust in and out, in and out. “So good — oh, Maker!”

A low rumbling groan reverberated in his chest as he pulled out quickly, kneeling over her.  He gripped his cock his fist and gave it a few pumps, his face contorting as he spilled his milky seed over her belly in short arcs of white liquid. Eala watched with huge eyes as his hips continued to piston back and forth as he wrung the last of his spend out of himself.

As he collapsed on the blanket beside her, his chest heaving with exertion, she slowly dipped a finger in the liquid coating her rounded belly and brought her hand closer to her face so she could examine it more closely. It felt smooth and tacky as she rolled it between her thumb and forefinger.

“Having fun with that, are you?”

She glanced at him to find him smirking at her as he rested with his head pillowed on one of his forearms, while the other hand brushed back his damp hair.

“Oh!” Flushing, she quickly rose and washed her hand in the running water of the stream, taking the time to cup some of the water and clean herself off. When she turned back, she noticed him watching her, and her blush deepened. Dragging her thick curling tresses over her naked body, she plucked up her shift from where it lay at the edge of the pond and put it on before returning to the blanket and sitting back down.

Cullen reached up to finger one of her straps. “Why have you covered yourself? I was enjoying watching your delightful breasts bounce, and the curve of your arse is so plump and perfect to behold — why do you deny me the pleasure of looking at you, hm?”

Eala looked away as uncertainty coiled in her stomach. “I wish you would not say those things,’ she murmured, playing with one of the thick curling skeins that tumbled into her lap.

“Look at me, Eala.” He was kneeling in front of her, one finger tipping her chin upward. She looked into his warm golden eyes and saw no derision of disgust in them; she saw only kindness, trust, and something softer. “You are beautiful, and I find you beyond attractive — have I not proven that here tonight?”

“Y-yes, but Cullen —“ He silenced her with a kiss, pulling her against him, one hand buried in her hair and the other cupping and caressing her ass. He pulled off her shift and bore her back down on the blanket, covering her with his body as he showed her once more how attracted he was to her.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Eala was straddling Cullen’s naked hips as she worked the oakflower and eldermoss liniment into his neck, shoulders, and back. She pressed deep into his muscles, wringing soft moans from him as she worked out his aches and pains.

About ten minutes before, he had come to find her in the healers' tent where she was helping them out with counting their stock of bandages, healing herbs, and potions. One look at his face had told her he was in a lot of pain, so she had quickly followed him back to their tent.

She studied his gorgeous back as she worked. She knew it well, from every indentation and ripple of muscle to every freckle on his powerful shoulders and upper arms. She loved the golden tone of his skin and where it reddened from the harsh desert sun, and she enjoyed counting every new freckle that appeared. He was her fierce, golden lion, who right now was purring under her touch like nothing more than an overgrown house cat.

He wriggled his shoulders. “More — harder,” he pleaded. When she dug her fingers deeper into his flesh, he grunted and hummed. “That’s so sodding good.” His voice trailed off into a moan.

The sounds of horses’ hooves clattering to a halt on the road outside made Eala pause in her ministrations. Cullen, who was completely out of it, whined. “No, don’t stop. Everything hurts — I need more.”

“Didn’t you hear that?”

He shifted, rolling his shoulders a little. “Huh? More.”

The sound of voices followed, and then a talon-tipped hand flung back the tent flap as the Inquisitor and Solas strode in.  Eala jumped off Cullen and threw a sheet over his nakedness; luckily, she was still wearing her dress, but still, her cheeks burned as she realized what this must look like.

Cullen, flushing pink himself, sat up, keeping the sheet in place around his waist. “Inquisitor — we did not expect you until tomorrow. I apologize for my — ah — deshabille —”

“Evidently,” the Inquisitor interrupted him, her blue eyes as cold as ice chips as they flicked between Eala and the Commander. “Now I understand the reason why my army was so slow to arrive here.“ She snapped her fingers. “On your feet, then Commander! We march on Adamant in three days; I would like a briefing on the state of the army and our plan of attack.”

Cullen nodded his head once, casting a quick glance up at the Inquisitor before returning his gaze to the ground. “Of course, Inquisitor. If you permit me to get dressed, I shall meet you shortly in the Command tent,” he submitted, but Eala could see his irritation in the tense line of his jaw and the pinch of his brow.

“You have five minutes.” She turned her long white-blond braid flying and stalked out of the tent. Eala caught the look she shared with Solas before she swept through the tent flap and stepped out into the afternoon sun. Solas gave Cullen an appraising stare before following her out.

“Maker,” Cullen said under his breath as he pushed himself to his feet with a soft groan. Eala was at his side at once to help him, but he gave her a wry grin as he raised a hand. “Thank you, love, but I think I can manage on my own.”

“But Cullen, you —“

“I’m fine,” he snapped, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maker’s breath, Eala, I am sorry. I — um, perhaps you could get me a shirt and a pair of breeches out of that chest over there?”

She gave his arm a squeeze before she crossed to the chest he indicated and pulled out the clothing he requested. She brought it to him, then on impulse, wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.  She looked up at his face, loathing the tense lines bracketing his mouth and creasing his forehead, as well as the ever-present pain behind those golden eyes.

With one last caress of his cheek, she pulled away. “You’d better get dressed and get going. I’ll be waiting for you when you return.”

Inhaling deeply, he nodded his head and reached for his clothing.

 

* * *

 

About an hour or two later,  Eala was folding some of Cullen’s shirts and putting them away when she heard hushed voices arguing just outside of the tent.

“This is why I wanted you back on lyrium, Cullen. Without it, you’re weak — you can hardly function without your own personal healer, and even then, your illness causes delays!”

“I have already explained that to you; it had nothing to do with…my condition.”

“I could order you to take it, you know.”

“But you will not.”

“Not yet. And I hope it won’t come to that, but it’s a close thing now, Commander. I need you strong. The Inquisition needs you strong.”

“I am aware.”

“Good night, Cullen.”

“And to you as well, Lysarah.”

The tent flap opened, and Cullen came in, looking tired and beat down. He threw himself down on the bed with a long groan.  “Maker.”

“Are you alright?”

He opened his eyes to look at her. “Heard that, did you?” She nodded. “Well, I don’t bloody know how I am supposed to feel right now if you want my honest answer. She’s right, you know. I am weak and useless as a commander because of my…condition. If I were a better man, I would have insisted on a replacement long ago.”

“Oh, Cullen, no.” She sat down beside him and cupped his face in both her hands. Righteous anger flared in her chest as she thought of what the Inquisitor had said to this dedicated man and she wanted to march over to wherever the Inquisitor was and give her a piece of her mind. “You are the strongest man I know and the Inquisition could ask for no better a commander than you. You do the work of ten men!”

He gave her weak smile. “Thank you for your confidence, love, but I know what I am.”  He sat up and got to his feet. “I only came in here to let you know that you ought not to wait up for me, believe it or not.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “It seems I cannot even do that without collapsing in bed. Well, love,  I have much work to do to prepare for the battle; don’t expect me until morning, if then.”

Eala frowned as she watched him stalk out of the tent, his shoulders stiff with pain and determination. “Oh, Cullen,” she whispered into the stillness surrounding her, the only sound the whisper of the wind as it buffeted the tent’s canvas walls.

 

* * *

 

 

The return journey to Skyhold proceeded at a much faster pace than the trip to the Western Approach, in large part because Cullen had decided to split the army up into battalions, each lead by one of his trusted Captains. He’d also sent one team forward with the siege equipment to return it to its owners.

Cullen himself had taken the more difficult task of leading the ranks of Grey Wardens, who had been subsumed under the Inquisition's leadership by command of the Inquisitor. She had apparently been furious with the organization after popping back from the Fade and had ordered the wayward group disbanded and folded under the Inquisition’s banner.

By the time Skyhold appeared in the distance, Eala felt relieved and nervous all at once. What would her relationship with Cullen be like once they were back in the fortress? He would see the Inquisitor more often — would he long for her taller, slimmer form? For her cool, elegant beauty, and the confidence she exuded? Her gaze fell on the Commander as he rode at the head of the phalanx of troops and support wagons. He cut an imposing figure atop his black warhorse, the sun glinting off his armor and the gold of his hair. Could she really hope to hold the interest of such a man?

As they approached Skyhold gates and the bridge that spanned the rocky chasm between the road and the fortress, Jocelyn and Heather flanked her on either side. A frisson of unease skittered up her spine as the redhead, and blonde smiled, showing far too many teeth for it to be a friendly gesture.

Jocelyn leaned across the gap between their mounts to whisper in her ear. “The Inquisitor requests your presence in her chambers the moment we reach Skyhold.” The two moved their horses so close to hers that their sides brushed, causing her mount to toss its head restively.

“We’re to escort you there forthwith,” Heather whispered in her other ear, her voice dripping with malevolent glee. “So don’t even try running off!”

As both girls grabbed onto Eala’s reins, fear knotted her stomach. She looked ahead to the Commander who was now cantering across the bridge, waving his arm in greeting to the guards on duty. As their rousing cheer carried down toward them, she shivered against the canyon breeze that suddenly felt icy cold.

 

* * *

 

Eala stood before the Inquisitor’s desk waiting for her to notice her and say whatever she needed to say.  Joselyn and Heather stood just behind her, blocking the door as if she would try to run away. She sent an annoyed glance at them before turning back to watch as the Inquisitor finished writing something on a sheet of paper.

After jotting down something else, the Inquisitor finally looked up and pierced her with her pale ice blue eyes. Her gaze traveled over her bedraggled figure before she steepled her taloned fingertips together in front of her on the desk.  More than ever, Eala was aware of her grubby clothing and plump figure. She remembered Cullen’s beautiful golden eyes adoring every inch of her, and wondered again how she could ever hope to compete against the elegant elven goddess before her.

With a flick of her hand, the Inquisitor dismissed Heather and Jocelyn, then returned her frosty gaze to Eala.“I’m told that you and the Commander have grown…close during your time away from Skyhold. Indeed, what I saw at the army encampment confirms much of this intel.”

“I –I’m sorry, your Worship, but I was given to understand you had no claim on the Commander.”

The Inquisitor dismissed her statement with a wave. “Oh, I know all that, this isn’t about that.” She narrowed her eyes. “What I am interested in is the fact that he obviously trusts you a great deal.”

Eala frowned and stood as straight as she could. “Yes, I suppose he does. Why is that important to you?”

“I want you to convince him to start taking lyrium again.” The knot in her stomach turned into an icy ball.

“But Your Worship, that’s —“

“Necessary to win this war.” The elf stood and padded over to the open balcony doors. She stood before them, her hands clasped behind her as she looked outside. “I do not ask this of him — or you lightly. I know of the Commander’s struggles and his history, but we simply cannot afford for him to be a weak link in the Inquisition.”

Eala’s fists clenched at her sides. “With all due respect, Inquisitor, I think you are underestimating your Commander. I don’t know how you can call him weak when he already works so hard!”

The blonde whirled on her, eyes blazing. “And is regularly bed-ridden with headaches — needs to bring his _personal healer_ with him in the field — tell me, how many times on the road to the Western Approach did he stop the army so that you could rub liniment on him?”

Eala blinked. What kind of question was that? Then she recalled Heather and Jocelyn hovering around her and Cullen, especially during his treatments. She smiled.“None, Inquisitor, absolutely none!”

“Except that, I’ve heard otherwise, and what I saw when I arrived at the encampment corroborates what I’ve heard.  He must take it for the Inquisition. I can order him to do so, but it would be better if he were to choose to do it on his own. I know you can convince him.”

Eala stared down at her feet as she considered her options.

 


	7. Without No Seams Nor Needlework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eala makes a deal with the Inquisitor about Cullen and lyrium and enlists Dorian's help in searching for another way to help her Commander cope with his withdrawal symptoms. Meanwhile, her relationship with Cullen continues to evolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write — I went through a lot of drafts before coming up with this version. I am a little nervous about posting this — please don't hate me too much. 
> 
> Anyway, for everyone who has continued to stay with this fic, left comments or kudos, a huge THANK YOU goes out to each and every one of you. You are the reason I keep writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Eala glanced at Inquisitor Lysarah. The elf’s cold blue eyes were pitiless. She was beautiful, yes, but there was no warmth in her, and Eala wondered what Cullen had ever seen in her. And now she wanted to force him back on lyrium after he had come so far. It would kill him. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

“This is not a decision I can make lightly, Your Worship. I beg you to give me some time to consider the available options.”

The Inquisitor frowned, and for a painful moment, Eala thought she would refuse her request. “You have until after the ball at Halamshiral,” she said. “Now leave me.  I have much to do to prepare.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Heather and Jocelyn were waiting in the main hall when Eala emerged from the Inquisitor’s quarters. She stiffened when the two flanked her as she crossed the large room.

She knew that hoping the two vipers would leave her be was too much to ask when they stepped in front of her, blocking her way. She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.  “You’ve got what you wanted. Do go to the Void.”

Heather and Jocelyn shared a look.

“You need to remember your place, fatty. Don’t get too comfortable with the Commander,” Heather sneered, giving her a pointed shove.

“You’re back in Skyhold now, not out in the field where you can monopolize all his attention,” added Jocelyn, lifting her chin. “Do you really think you can hold his attention when there are so many other beautiful women who would gladly fall into his bed?”

Anger, wild and hot, boiled in Eala’s stomach and it must have shown in her eyes because the taller women backed away from her.

 “What makes you think that the Commander would want either of you bitches?” she hissed. “Why would he ever want to _fuck_ your bony, spying asses? He wouldn’t, even if you were the last women in Thedas! Now get out of my way: I have work to do!” She shoved past the two stunned women who said not a word in reply.

She held her head high as she opened the door to the rotunda and the stairs to the library. When she closed it behind her, she leaned against it to catch her breath. As her heart calmed and her anger faded, Eala felt powerful for the first time against her two tormentors.

Minutes later, she found Dorian among his books. “Lord Pavus, may I have a moment of your time?”

He smiled and stood up, sketching a bow to greet her. “Of course. And it’s just Dorian if you please.”

“Dorian, then, a couple of months ago you said that you could get be some books from Tevinter on lyrium. Is that offer still available?”

“Of course, my dear. In fact, I took the liberty to send for some right after we spoke and, my, you’re in luck because they’ve only just arrived the other day.  One moment, if you please.”

He turned and started digging among the piles of books in his corner of the library and drew out two heavy tomes with a flourish. “And here they are! Now, let’s see.” He led the way to one of the study tables and set the books down, immediately rifling through the pages with beringed fingers. “Ah, here is it is: lyrium and withdrawal. Hmm. Your handsome Templar has migraines, yes? Backaches? Sore joints?”

“Y-yes. All of it,” she answered, looking over his shoulder at the page he was looking at. “I try to help ease his symptoms as I can but —“ she stopped, wondering how wise it was for her to confide in him.

The Tevinter Altus waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, come now! I love Lysarah dearly as a friend, but as I told you before, I know how blind she can be on some matters — let me guess, she wants the Commander to resume taking lyrium because she thinks him weak without it.”

“How did you know?” Eala had to remember to close her mouth which had dropped open in shock.

Dorian laughed, straightening from his position hunched over the book on the table to throw an arm around her shoulders. “Like I said, I know our dear Lysarah quite well, and compassion for others’ problems is not one of her strong suits. Now, let’s pull up a couple of chairs and get to work on finding something to help our Commander, hm?”

 

* * *

 

“Eala, are you all right?”

“Yes, why?” she looked at Cullen where he lay in bed as she slipped the jar of liniment back into the medicine chest.

“You seem — preoccupied. You’ve been this way since we arrived back home.”

Damn his perceptiveness. She had less than two months to find another way to ease his withdrawal symptoms, and she and Dorian were no closer than when they had started a couple of weeks ago. She snapped the box closed and forced a smile.

“I am fine.” She returned to the bed and sat beside him, reaching up to caress his stubbled cheek. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Sweetheart, I will always worry about you. “ He captured her hand in his and turned his head to press a kiss to her palm. “But I understand if you do not wish to tell me just now. Just know that I will always listen if you need someone to talk to.”

She tugged her hand free and looked away. “I, um, I should get back to my quarters. You need your rest.”

He grabbed her hand back, halting her from rising as a hurt look crossed his face. “What? You are not sleeping here?”

She bit her lip as she stared at his much larger hand covering hers. It wasn’t just the Inquisitor’s demand hanging over them. She looked at his beautiful face and body — would he still want her tomorrow? In a week? In a month? Jocelyn’s words came back to her:

_Do you really think you can hold his attention when there are so many other beautiful women who would gladly fall into his bed?_

“I — I  have to go.” She pulled her hand free again and stood abruptly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Eala — wait!”

She ignored his call and slipped down the ladder to his office and out the door as quickly as her feet could carry her.

 

* * *

 

“Eala, I found something,” Dorian announced.

She looked up from her book to regard him with raised brows.  They had been in the library,  pouring over the Tevinter books on lyrium for the past couple hours, and she was beginning to doubt that they would ever find anything helpful.

 “Look here,” Dorian slid his book across the table and pointed to a drawing on the page. “It says here that these runes are useful for combatting inflammation, muscle stiffness, and aiding sleep.”

Eala ‘s frown smoothed as she scanned the page. “Well, this could be helpful in getting the Commander back on his feet sooner after one of his attacks.” She looked up at Dorian. “But where can we get these made? I think I have most of the required herbs, and I am sure we have obsidian on hand, but is there anyone in Skyhold who knows how to craft such runes?”

Dorian gripped her hand. “I know of the perfect person for the job — you are aware that the Inquisition has an arcanist in its employ, yes?”

“An arcanist?”

“Her name is Dagna, and she can work wonders with any type of raw material you might throw at her. Gather the ingredients and meet me in the Undercroft in an hour.”

 

* * *

 

That night, after his treatment, Cullen wrapped his arms around Eala and captured her lips in a demanding kiss. She melted against him, her own arms going around his neck and twining in the short golden hair at his nape. In one smooth movement, he had her beneath him on the bed, his large body hovering over hers as he supported his weight with one strong arm.

Pulling his lips from hers, he stared down at her, the gold of his irises eclipsed by his pupils. His arousal lay heavy between them and heat suffused his cheeks and the tip of his nose with a delightful pink color. Maker, how could one man be so handsome?

“Stay,” he growled.

“Cullen.” She tried to avert her eyes, but he grabbed her chin in a gentle but unavoidable grip.

“No. Look at me,” he commanded. The candlelight glittered in those striking eyes, and with two curling blond locks tumbling over his forehead, he looked rakish and wild; not at all the cool, controlled Commander he was during the day.

 She swallowed, her heart knocking in her chest, her skin tingling where he touched her. And when the scarred corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, she reached up to trace the line of his lips with one finger. He caught it in his teeth and nibbled at it.

“I want you,” his voice was deep and rough, with more than a little heat. His hand palmed her breast and dropped his head to place wet kisses on her neck. “You drive me insane, woman,” he whispered in her ear, his breath scorching her flesh, setting her core on fire.

 “Then, dear Ser, you may have me.”

He groaned and kissed her again, dragging his mouth across hers, his stubbled chin rasping against her skin. Flexible fingers worked the buttons of her dress, stripping it off her in an economy of motion. But he practically snarled when he saw her undergarments and the additional buttons he would have to work through to get to her naked skin.

She covered his hands with hers before he could rip her shift off her and undid the buttons herself as quickly as she could while the Commander set upon her bare skin with lips, tongue, teeth, and rough, calloused fingers.

She looked at him as he took one nipple in his mouth, arching into him as he sucked and licked all around it, his hair a mass of unruly blond waves. Gripping his skull with one hand while she carded through his curls with the other, she thrilled at his obvious hunger for her. Perhaps she didn’t have anything to worry about after all.

He spun them around suddenly so that she was sitting astride him, her dress and shift falling away to leave her bare save for her small clothes. Instinctively, she brought forward her long raven curls to conceal her ample breasts and crossed her arms over them, shame coloring her cheeks.

“No, do not hide yourself from me.” He pulled her arms down and brushed back her hair. He raised up on one elbow to cup one of her breasts, bringing it to his mouth. He suckled on a nipple, caressing her sensitive skin with his calloused palms. “These are glorious, and one day, if you will permit me to be crude, I hope you will let me fuck them until I bathe you with my spend — until you wear a necklace of pearls ‘round your lovely throat.

“And here,” he dropped his hand to stroke her rounded stomach. “I love how soft you are, how welcoming and womanly you are. You are not so thin that I fear I might break you should our love making get a little rough.” He captured her lips in a searing kiss as his hands worked her smalls down over her legs and off. “My darling Eala, never doubt how perfect you are in my eyes.”

Eala’s eyes misted as she cupped his cheeks with both hands. She returned his kiss with all of the emotion overflowing her heart. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to say the words, but they stuck in her throat.

Cullen lay back. “Come up here and straddle my face.”

“What? But —“

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and settled her above his face, grinning wickedly up at her. “I want to enjoy watching you go to pieces above me while I pleasure you with my mouth,” he growled and tucked his mouth into her mound. As his tongue began its dance around her quim, her head fell back, and she arched her back, her long tresses brushing his stomach.

His large hands slipped between her legs and cupped her, his thumbs spreading her apart so that he could thoroughly explore her with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Eala keened. “Cullen! Oh, Cullen!” She glanced down to find his eyes centered on her, on the way her body reacted to his touch. His gaze, black with desire, took everything in, from the flush of her cheeks to the way her breathing hitched and stuttered every time his tongue passed over her clit.  And, Maker, he had this expression on his face, like he wanted to devour her until there was nothing left of her.

That look, together with what his mouth was doing to her sent her over the edge. She trembled above him with the force of her orgasm as she cried out. She thought she might be saying his name over and over again, like a prayer, but she could not be sure.  Her mind fractured, and reality faded out, from the soft sigh of the night breeze through the hole in his roof to the calls of the night birds; even the feel of the sheets on the Commander’s bed was no more. There was only the moist heat of his tongue combining with her juices and him.

When she came to, she was cradled in Cullen’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder as he pressed soft kisses to her brow, her cheeks, and her lips. When he saw that she had regained awareness, he smiled.

“Welcome back, sweetheart.”

She sat up, blinking owlishly. “What happened?” Her body was tingling all over, energy pooling in her core and radiating out to her limbs.

He chuckled. “The Orlesians call it ‘Le Petit Mort,’ which translates to the ‘little death’ in Common.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You — ah — came so hard you blacked out,” he said, a smug smirk curving his lips. Her eyes widened as she finally clued in on what he was saying.

“Oh.”

“More like Oh, Cullen, Cullen, Cullen, actually.” His smirk turned into a broad, face-splitting grin. “I rather enjoyed the way you were calling out my name.”

She snuggled closer to him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. “I’d like to learn how to give you ‘Le Petit Mort.’ Have you ever experienced it before?”

He considered her question. “I came close one time, but I have always been too wound up, at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“Well,” she sat up and regarded him with bright eyes. “We shall just have to find out how to relax you.”

Cullen covered her mouth in a long, lingering kiss. “I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

The morning sunlight pouring in through the hole in the Commander’s roof woke her the following morning, its gentle shafts of light dappling the rough wooden floor, the covers, and the strong body of her still-sleeping lover. She sat up and slowly stretched, looking down at the gorgeous sight beside her. He was lying on his back, his head turned toward her, pink lips parted and looking a bit incongruous against the backdrop of his thick golden stubble. She wanted to lean down kiss them, but she refrained, content for the moment to just watch him sleep. He got so little rest, it seemed a crime to wake him. Instead, she let her eyes drift downward, settling on his broad chest and —

“Good morning, love.”

“Oh!” Her eyes flew up to his face and his sleepy golden gaze. He was smirking, a soft, amused expression crinkling the corners of his eyes. She placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. “Cullen! You startled me!”

He chuckled warmly and arched a honey brow. “So it seems. Enjoying the view?”

“Beast! Like you need any more compliments on your golden good looks!” She slapped his chest, but a small grin took the bite out her words. “You know I do!”

“Oh, come here, you!” he growled, pulling her down to lie on top of him. “My golden good-looks aside, there is something we need to discuss.” His expression became serious.

She smiled nervously. “W-what did you want to talk about?”

He sighed, bit his bottom lip as his brow creased. “You — Maker damn it, Eala, we’ve been back for nearly two weeks, and I barely get a chance to see you except for my treatments. You run away before I can ask you to stay. Am I wrong in thinking that there is more between us, or am I just your project — a broken ex-Templar to heal?”

“Oh, Cullen.” Tears welled in Eala’s eyes and her chest tightened as love flooded her heart. He looked so confused and hurt. “I didn’t realize I —“ She looked directly into his clouded golden gaze. “You are so much more to me than that. I—”

He silenced her with a long kiss, both of his hands coming up to bury his fingers in her long dark curls. When he released her lips, his voice was gravelly and rough. “Then you will move your belongings in here today! There will be no more sleeping apart and I —“ he kissed her again “—will not hear another word about it. Is that clear, young lady?”

She tucked her head against his chest to hide her wide grin. “Yes, Ser,” she said dutifully.

“Good girl. ”

As his hands slid out of her hair and down her back, he introduced her to one of the many delights of waking up in the same bed together.

 

* * *

 

“I will come along at 16 bells to collect you for supper,” Cullen said before he leaned down and kissed her. Eala felt warm in spite of the morning chill as she stood with her Commander outside the Healer’s Clinic.

“But I told you — you don’t have to…” his raised a brow and the glint in his golden eyes halted her words. She rolled her eyes. “Alright, Commander. I’ll see you then.”

“One last kiss,” he said, bending to caress her mouth with his once more. “Mm, your lips are addictive,” he husked before glancing up at the sky, “Maker, look at the time!  I’d best get going, or I will be late for inspections. See you tonight.”

Eala smiled as she watched him hurry toward the stables. She would never admit it to him, but she was secretly pleased that he had insisted on escorting her to the clinic each morning and coming for her every evening since she had moved in with him. It made her feel loved, and to be honest, she didn’t mind the fact that she was seen walking arm in arm with Ser Golden Knight himself. She snickered to herself as she turned around to enter the clinic; he hated when she called attention to his handsomeness — said it was undignified for a Commander. Oh, but she did love to tease him about it!

She swept into the clinic and greeted the other healers as she hung up her cloak by the door. The two other women she was usually on duty with smiled at her in return. Was it her imagination or did they appear friendlier to her?  Jocelyn and Heather, of course, were as nasty to her as ever, but not even their snide comments could pop the bubble of happiness that surrounded her: soon Dagna would have the runes ready, and she could tell the Inquisitor that she would never ask Cullen to resume taking lyrium.

In the preparation room, she measured out the proper portions of elfroot and embrium into the large mortar and pestle on the workbench in its center. Cullen wanted her — perhaps he even loved her, because although he had yet to say the words, his actions said otherwise. She crushed the two herbs together, then, after she had ground them into a thick paste, she scraped it into a pot bubbling over the corner hearth. And there was this look that he got only when he looked at her; his entire expression softened, his full pink lips drawing into a wistful smile and his golden eyes sparkling.

She sighed as she recalled how his eyes looked when he made love to her each night. He pleasured her like he did everything else: thoroughly and well. He had made her fall into Le Petit Mort a number of times since night before he had demanded that she move in with him. She would have to ask Dorian how she could give it to Cullen She blushed, returning her attention to the boiling pot. Her thoughts seemed to turn in a naughty direction quite frequently these days.

Speaking of the devil, Dorian appeared in the doorway a few moments later. “I’ve some good news if you want to hear it,” he leaned indolently against the door frame, smoothing his mustache with one manicured finger.

She hopped up on her feet and approached him. “Spill it, Pavus,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping one foot expectantly.

“I am come to tell you that —“ he paused for effect “— Dagna finished the runes! She told me that you can collect them anytime.”

“Oh, Dorian, thank you!” she squealed as she impulsively hugged him. “This is the best news I’ve had in a long time!”

His arms came around her as he returned her hug with a fierce one of his own. “’I was glad to help; I want you and the Commander to be happy.”

She released him and rubbed her hands together as she considered her next steps. “ I have to go and get them right now — I want to try them on Cullen tonight! Thank you for everything, Dorian. You’re a true friend.”

He buffed his nails and held them up to study them. “Yes, I know — I am handsome, charming, and smart. What a burden it is to be me. “ He leaned over and smacked her rump playfully. “Now go get those runes!”

 

* * *

 

Brimming with excitement, Eala quickly crossed the courtyard on the way to her and Cullen’s quarters, the box of runes held delicately before her. She couldn’t wait to show them to Cullen and try them out on him. He was always tired and sore after a long day so it would be a good test of their effectiveness after she gave him his usual massage.

“Healer Eala, please come quickly,” a runner approached her just as she was about to mount the stairs to the battlements. “The Commander — he needs you at the gardens — it’s urgent.”

“Urgent? What happened?” she asked as she followed the runner back toward the keep, moving swiftly as worry knotted her stomach. “Is he ill?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the details, Mistress. I was only bid to fetch you right away.”

When they reached the main hall the runner crossed to the first door on the left side. “In through here, Mistress,” he said.

“Yes, thank you,” she told him, pausing to gather strength for what she would find on the other side of the door. Cullen needed her, and she would not fail him. She opened the door and walked through, surprised to find Heather standing in the shallow antechamber between the main hall and the door leading out to the garden.  “What are you doing here? Where’s Cullen?”

“Oh,” she said, covering her mouth. “Excuse me.” She reached for the door, scratching its surface with one hand before swinging it open to reveal the covered portico that surrounded the Skyhold gardens.

“No,” Eala whispered, the box of runes falling from her hands, clattering as it hit the stone floor, its contents scattered around her feet.

There, right in front of her eyes was Commander Cullen; he was sitting on one of the portico benches and comfortably ensconced in his lap was the Inquisitor, her arms wrapped around his neck. The two were lost in a passionate kiss, and Eala thought how perfect they looked together, blond heads so close together, his bulk making her tiny frame look even smaller. 

“No!”This time the word left her on a keening cry that echoed against the surrounding stone walls of the portico as tears fell freely down her cheeks. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know I am stinker for leaving you hanging with this ending. Please don't lynch me! xxoo


	8. Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eala finds the strength within her to face down Cullen's seeming infidelity, but at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know you guys are going to seriously kill me this time, but I couldn't wrap everything up in a single chapter, so you get one more. 
> 
>  
> 
> To my wonderful readers, thank you so much for staying with this story. I know I am a baaad author for stringing you along with cliffhanger after cliffhanger, but it's the way I roll. Anyway, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and clicking that kudos button. It means a lot to me! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

Cullen sprang up from the bench, pushing the Inquisitor off him, all color drained from his complexion. “Eala!  Maker — fuck, this — this isn’t what it looks like. Please let me explain!”

He stumbled toward her, his arms outstretched in entreaty, and the shocked expression on his handsome face nearly made her hesitate. Almost.

“Really, love,” drawled the Inquisitor, slinking up to his side and pressing herself against him. “Such excuses from those beautiful pink lips!” The sultry look she gave him drove a spike through Eala’s heart.

Cullen wavered on his feet, raising one hand to his pinched brow as he side-stepped away from the elf. “I — I don’t — I didn’t — Maker, my head hurts.“  Again, he tried to close the distance between them, his eyes pools of confusion.

Anger rescued her. It boiled up fierce and fiery from her gut, drying her tears.

“No,” she said, her voice cold and controlled. “I don’t want to hear it. You lied to me — made me believe in something that was never real.” She flicked a glance between him and the Inquisitor who arched a smug eyebrow at her. “You win, Inquisitor.” She curtsied and turned away.

“Eala, please!” he called after her as she walked briskly in the direction of the clinic, but she ignored his pleas.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Eala threw herself into her work at the clinic.  Luckily, her old room above the clinic was still vacant. The only problem was that all of her things were still in the Commander’s loft. She did not want to risk encountering him, so she waited until she was sure he was down in the army encampment below the fortress before sneaking into his quarters to collect her most important items.

His office was quiet when she entered, his desk scattered with missives, reports, and alarmingly, several empty bottles of liquor. Turning away from his desk, she quickly climbed the ladder to the loft they had briefly shared.

“Maker’s mercy!” she gasped as her eyes took in the destruction around her. His armor stand lay on the floor, his mattress lay askew, all the pillows and blankets haphazardly tossed around the room, and every single one of his chests lay upended, their contents strewn on the floor. As she picked her way through the mess, she spied more empty liquor bottles.

What in the Void was he doing to himself? Shouldn’t he be happy to finally be with the woman he’d been pining for since Haven? Eala shook her head. Perhaps he was drinking to ease his pain. She would have to see if she could find another healer to treat him now that she could no longer do it. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Just because she was now at odds with her former patient was no reason to neglect his care.

Finding her chests intact, spared from the carnage that obliterated the rest of the room, she quickly gathered a few important items. She would send for the rest of her things later. As she turned to leave, she heard one of the doors downstairs creak open then slam shut, then the sound of booted feet on the stone floor.

Blast and botheration! She knew the sound of those footsteps; it could only be one person, and she very much did not want to see him just now. As she considered her next move, she heard the ladder creak. Maker, he was coming up! What should she do?

He took the choice away from her when his head appeared above the ladder. His appearance mirrored the state of his loft; instead of its usual perfectly groomed style, his hair was a mess of curls, and his jaw was covered with three days’ growth of beard. But it was his eyes that concerned her most: their usual bright golden color was now muddy and dark, and the circles beneath them were deep purple, like old bruises.

“Eala?” his voice was hesitant and rough. He scrambled up the rest of the way and came to stand in front of her. He raised one hand and brought it to her cheek, and she strained to avoid melting into his touch. “Eala. You’ve come back.”

She steeled herself against the longings of her heart and stepped back, clearing her throat against the painful lump that formed there. “I just came for some of my things.” His hand fell away, and the dim light of hope in his eyes died.

“I — I see,” he said, his voice fracturing. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. ‘Um — will you — will you at least let me explain what happened?”

Eala shifted the box of her belongings from one hip to the other. Did she want to hear what he had to say? She looked around at the wreckage of his room and back at him. He looked so exhausted and forlorn. Did she owe him this much? The memory of him sitting on that bench with the Inquisitor in his lap, sucking on her lips the way he had done to her sparked the flames of her anger. She lifted her chin, her eyes turning frosty.

“What possible explanation could you give, Cullen? I know what I saw.”

“That’s just it — no, you _don’t,_ Eala.” He ran his hands through his hair and began pacing back and forth. “I —I was called down to the gardens —a messenger — he ran in here and told me that there had been an altercation there involving my men and that I should come straight away.“ His breathing grew rapid and labored, and his hands gesticulated wildly, his every movement uncontrolled and frantic. “I— I went, of course, and when I got there, I didn’t notice anything amiss. I looked around, but there was no one around, and all was it should be — except for that smell.

“I should have known then and just left — I wish to the Maker that I had —“ he stopped pacing and turned to look at her, his eyes bright with tears and pleading for understanding. “Lyrium. The smell of it was everywhere, and I — weak bastard that I am —“ his tone became derisive, and a snarl of disgust twisted his features. “I became dizzy with it.  My head spun, and I could not see. I think I would have fallen except for a hand pushing me down on the bench. The next thing I knew, the Inquisitor was in my lap, and her mouth was on mine — and you — oh, Maker — you walked in, and the way you looked at me, it killed me.”

Eala shook her head, tears prickling her lids as she met his tortured gaze. “I have to go,” she said.

“Eala, please, you have to believe me — I —I would never — could never hurt you like that. Please! I — I love you!” The shell she had built around her heart burst at his words, pain flooding her chest and fueling the rage burning in her gut.

“You dare to speak of love?” she shouted at him, a small mean part of her reveling in the way he flinched at the words she flung like barbs. “You think you can offer up weak explanations, tell me that you love me, and then I’ll fall at your feet? “ She tossed back her loose black curls and threw him a glacial look. “No, Commander, I will not be your plaything. Go back to your Inquisitor. I’m sure she can soothe whatever hurts.”

He seemed to shrink in front of her eyes, his shoulders slumping. “Of course you don’t believe me. Why would you?” Turning away from her, he stumbled to his bed and collapsed on the crooked mattress, tossing one arm over his eyes.

She averted her gaze from the broken man on the bed, guilt dampening her anger. Was it really necessary to throw his feelings back at him like that?  The part of her that still loved him, and always would, urged her to go to him and tell him she was sorry and that they could work this out, but the burgeoning part of her that was learning to stand up for herself ruthlessly squelched her softer feelings. Her box of belongings in hand, she slid down the ladder and left the Commander’s office for good.

 

* * *

 

“The Commander isn’t doing very well…just thought you might like to know that,” Dorian said as he strolled into the clinic one afternoon a few days later.

Eala sighed. “I know, but there is nothing I can do if he won’t accept treatment from anyone other than me. The stubborn man has rejected every healer I’ve sent to him. Maybe the Inquisitor will have better luck with him.”

Dorian gave a short bark of laughter. “Lysarah? Care about what Cullen needs? My dear girl, that woman is only concerned with winning the war and looking good while doing it!”

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” She threw down the treatment logs she was reading, irritation sharpening her voice. Inside, a worm of worry wound around her heart and squeezed.

_The Inquisitor wants him back on lyrium — she asked her to convince him to do it_

He gave her a sympathetic look. “I know, dear, and had I walked in on Bull kissing someone else like you did with the Commander, I would feel the same way. But,” he raised a beringed finger. “I still think something is fishy about the whole thing. Fasta vass, the man is besotted with you — why would he jeopardize your relationship like that? It makes no sense!”

“Truthfully, Dorian, I don’t think he even knows,” she told her friend. “He told me a preposterous story, did I tell you?”

Dorian’s gray eyes sharpened. “No, what did he say?”

“Come, “ she said, getting to her feet. “I'll tell you while I fill potions.”

In the workroom,  she took down a crate of empty glass flasks from a shelf and set it down beside the cooled pot of healing potions on the table.  Inserting a funnel into each empty flask, she related what Cullen had told her — about smelling lyrium and blacking out, only to wake with the Inquisitor kissing him.

Handing her a ladle, Dorian leaned a hip against the workbench. “Have you considered that he might be telling the truth?”

She scoffed. “Really, Dorian? Even a child could come up with a far more creative and believable tale than that!”

He gave a long sigh. “Well, darling, I’ll say no more except for this: consider that there are others in Skyhold who have a lot to gain by weakening the Commander. Just think about that. Now,” he straightened and brushed his pants off with a flourish. “I have an appointment with Bull. I’ll talk to you later.”

“See you later, Dorian.”

After he left, Eala turned her attention to spooning the yellowish mixture into each flask. A frown settled over her brow.  Could she really believe Cullen when it went against what she had seen with her own two eyes? It was madness!

And yet, she missed him. She corked each filled vial and set the finished crate aside, biting her lip. She missed seeing him every day, she missed touching him, she missed his kisses. Cullen was the only man to ever give her a second look, to treat her as if she were desirable. He made her feel beautiful.

Angrily, she wiped her wet eyes. Why had he kissed _her_ , especially after how she treated him? Was he really just like most other men, beguiled by a pretty face? Had he been lying all this time?

But the way he had looked at her that day in his loft haunted her. The pleading look in those golden eyes and the resignation of his slumped shoulders when she had rejected his explanation He had looked as if she had physically struck him, cowed and beaten. None of that fit the puzzle, either.

Could he have been telling the truth? But he had been kissing the Inquisitor; she had not imagined that. Whatever his explanations, that fact rankled like a burr under the saddle.

Eala huffed in disgust and returned her attention to her work, resolving to put the matter from her mind for now.

 

* * *

 

“You don’t look so good, Curly. Maybe you oughta sit this one out. Want me to talk to the Princess?” Varric’s voice was saying. Eala quietly entered the great hall, staying in the shadows, a box of healing potions in her arms.

“I’m fine, Varric, and you will do no such thing,” Cullen responded, reaching into the pocket of his tan breeches and extracting a handkerchief. He used it to wipe his forehead and his neck, then tucked it back into his breeches. “As much as I detest the Game and Orlesian nonsense, I have duties to attend.”

Watching the two men from her position not ten feet away, she had to agree with Varric: Cullen looked ill. No longer was his skin that beautiful golden color; instead it was as pale as the white shirt he wore. His cheeks were gaunt, and although his golden hair was impeccably styled, as always, it had lost its luster, appearing dull and lifeless.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re as stubborn as a druffalo?” Varric shrugged. “Suit yourself, Curly. Hey, what happened to that little healer you were with?“

Cullen stiffened and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, doing up the last three before shrugging into the red and gold military jacket that completed his uniform for the ball at the Winter Palace. Hugging the crate tighter against her chest, Eala listened closely to hear what he would say.

“Maker’s breath, Varric!” growled Cullen, “have you no better subject to gossip about than —“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.”Never mind, don’t answer that. As for your completely inappropriate question, let’s just say she and I had a misunderstanding and leave it at that, hm?”

Varric’s laugh boomed across the hall. She didn’t miss the way Cullen winced at the loud sound. “Alright, Curly, don’t get your feathers all ruffled — and you still look like shit.”

The blond ex-Templar looked around the hall impatiently. “Are we ready to go yet?” Eala sucked in a breath as his eyes passed over where she stood pressed against the stone wall, tucked into the shadowed corner of the large room. She caught the telltale deepening of the line between his brows and the sharp creases around his mouth; the man was suffering from a migraine.

_Oh, Cullen._

She wanted to go to him, to rub his temples, neck, and shoulders the way he liked, to help him relax so that he could rest. Guilt flooded her, and she ducked away before he could see her, fleeing all the way back to the clinic. She handed the crate to another healer and told her to take it into the main hall at once.

Sitting down at her desk, she tried to busy herself with work, but the Commander’s white face, bruised eyes, and clammy skin kept intruding on her thoughts. Clasping her hands together in prayer, she asked the Maker to protect him and bring him home safe.

 

* * *

 

“Eala, you must come to the Commander’s tower at once!” Dorian cried, his voice breathless as he ran into the clinic two days later. The dark-haired man stood shifting from foot to foot in front of her desk, clearly agitated.

“Alright,” she said, picking up her healers’ satchel and following him out, dread quickening her steps. “What’s happened — what’s wrong?” Remorse and guilt twisted in her gut.  Why hadn’t she done anything? She could have insisted that he should stay in Skyhold for a rest. As chief healer, she had the power to do it. Why hadn’t she?

“We got back from the Winter Palace late last night, and everyone went to bed. I didn’t like how Cullen looked on the carriage ride back,  so this morning, I go to check on him, and I found him collapsed in his loft, mere feet from the ladder. He must have just climbed up before he dropped. Thank the Maker he didn’t fall.”

“Maker! I knew he wasn’t well. I — I should have seen to him myself.”

“Now, now, Eala, don’t blame yourself. If you think you could have persuaded him out of going, you’ve got another thing coming.  You know how stubborn that big blond oaf can be!”

She laughed weakly as they entered Cullen’s office. It was odd for it to be so quiet at this time of the day. She glanced at his desk and thanked the Maker that it wasn’t still littered with empty liquor bottles. A wry smile twisted her lips; her Commander was too responsible for that.

In Cullen’s loft, she found that everything had been set to rights from the last time she’d seen it, other than the fact that the Commander lay abed at this hour of the morning when he was usually up seeing to his duties. He lay on his back, the covers pulled around his waist, utterly still. If it weren't for the soft rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought he was dead.

_Maker, please, no!_

She sat on the bed beside him and lifted his eyelids one by one to check his eyes. Good. His pupils were reactive to light. Leaning over, she reached into her satchel for a bottle of peppermint and elfroot wash. She glanced behind her to Dorian who stood uncertainly at the foot of the Commander’s bed.

“Get me a bowl of water, please,” she ordered calmly, pushing aside her worry. Accepting the item from him, she nodded her thanks. “Tell me everything that happened. Did he take anything for his headache?” Her mind raced, thinking through all the reasons he might have collapsed, exhaustion at the top of the list, but he could also be having a reaction to another drug.

 “I don’t think so. I can’t be sure of course, because I wasn’t with him the entire time we were at the Winter Palace, and he had his own private rooms during the night we spent there.” The Tevinter sat on the edge of the bed on the Commander’s other side. “He most certainly did not enjoy the ride home — we had to stop about five times for him to be sick along the side of the road.” He inhaled a long breath. “And every time he got back in the carriage, he looked paler than before. I tried to make him as comfortable as I could — I used ice magic to cool a cloth and held it to the back of his neck, but every jolt of the carriage seemed to make him wince.”

Pouring a measure of the wash into the water in the bowl, she took out a cloth and dipped it into the mixture. “He had a headache on the day you left, I know that because I saw him in the hall that morning.” She began wiping him down with the cloth, starting with his face and working her way lower.  “He is probably just exhausted, and the pain became too much for him. But we have to be prepared for anything.”

The mage looked sick. “Lysarah will want to hear about this,” he said, getting to his feet.  He  reached across the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder.“Be prepared for her to come storming in here demanding that you give him lyrium right away.”

“Let her just try it,” Eala growled as she continued her ministrations on the Commander.

After Dorian left and she was alone with Cullen, Eala allowed the tears to fall. Her hand shook as she gently ran the cloth across his sweaty skin. He looked almost fragile as he lay there; he was still a big and muscular man, but he was also smaller than he had been, the ropes and sinews of his close to the surface of his skin, blue veins winding their way up his arms.

“Oh, Cullen, my dear Ser,” she whispered as she bathed his chest. “I am so sorry that I haven’t been here for you.”

He moaned as she dragged the cloth down his chest toward his abdomen, the muscles there clenching and rippling as his breathing grew rougher. She looked up at his face, startled to see his eyes half-open. His brow wrinkled and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as his eyes slid in her direction, but there was no recognition in them.

“Please,” he croaked, and the desperation in that one syllable nearly unmade her. “Please kill me. I can't do this anymore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I know, another cliffhanger from me. What did you expect? xxoo


	9. Then she’ll be a true love of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eala nurses Cullen back to health while defending him from the Inquisitor's intentions to put him back on lyrium. Eala and Cullen come to an understanding of what happened between him and the Inquisitor and they start to mend their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. here it is my friends: the final chapter. *whew*
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has kudoed (is that a word?), left comments, and continued to read this fic through all of the cliffhangers and long periods between updates. You guys are wonderful, and honestly, I don't know whether I would have finished this without your support. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this final chapter!

“Sssh, dear Ser,” she crooned to him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

His expression tightened, and he found her hand and gripped it with surprising strength. “Listen to me,” he hissed, “m’nothing…have — _nothing!”_ His voice cracked as his eyes squeezed shut. “Maker, s-should have died l-long time ago. Tired of hurting…so tired.”

Tears fell from her eyes, wetting her cheeks and dripping down on their joined hands. “Cullen,” she put all of her longings into his name; her words failed her. The same defeated look she had seen in his eyes from weeks ago still haunted him.

He blinked, and a glimmer of recognition fired in his eyes.“Eala?” And for just a moment, hope lit those golden depths before dying out like the ancient light of a waning star.

“Yes, love, it’s me.”

“C-can’t be.  Must be dreaming. She hates me… doesn’t believe me —” he gave a choking laugh. “Don’t deserve her anyway.”

“Cullen it’s me, and I don’t hate you.”

“Wish you were real,” his full lips trembled and his voice broke on a sob,”wish I could tell you how much I love you — never, never want to hurt you. Void, I never _would_ —“ he cut himself off abruptly and turned away with a heavy sigh. “If you’re a demon, just take me already. Kill me now.”

“No, Cullen, darling, I’m real,” she grasped his stubbled cheeks in her hands and turned his face toward her. Her eyes locked with his. “I’m here, and I do not hate you!”

His eyes closed and tears leaked from their corners. Lids opened on hazy golden irises as he raised a shaking hand to cup her cheek. Her heart sang at the familiar touch of his calloused palm on her soft skin.

“You’ve come back,” he whispered, then his hand fell away and his eyes closed as he sank back into an exhausted slumber.

Her cheeks still wet with tears, she moistened another cloth and lay it on his forehead. He stirred and moaned a little, but did not wake. He thought she hated him; a leaden ball of guilt formed in the pit of her stomach.

_You dare to speak of love?_

Tucking his blankets more securely around his waist, she resumed her seat beside his bed. “No, Cullen. I don’t hate you,” she repeated to the sleeping man. “I love you, you big Fereldan oaf,  so you ought to get better.”

An hour went by, during which Eala spent refreshing the cool cloth on Cullen’s forehead and wiping the sweat from his body. Other than a few grunts and grimaces, he slept like the dead. She could only imagine how much he needed the rest. Her ears pricked as the sounds of people entering Cullen’s office disturbed the silence of the tower.

“I will see him now. I don’t care what condition he’s in.” It was the Inquisitor's voice, and she did not sound happy.

“Lysarah, be reasonable. Cullen needs rest.” That was Dorian, bless him.

“Fuck that! Is he upstairs?”

“Yes, Lysarah. I told you that. He’s not well.” Dorian sounded exasperated.

“Tell me, Dorian, when is he well?” she scoffed, “I repeat: I’ll see him now, fuck his _condition_!”

Moments later, the Inquisitor and Dorian climbed into Cullen’s loft. When she saw Eala there, a surprised look flitted across her features before she quickly masked it with a frosty glare.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Eala stood and lifted her chin. “Tending to the Commander, who thanks in part to your prodding and insane demands, is now quite ill.”

The Inquisitor crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she watched the exhausted man sleep. “You know the cure for this _illness_. Give him lyrium. Now.”

Flames of anger lit her insides, boiling in the pit of her stomach. This woman, Inquisitor or no, Herald of Andraste, or no, was a selfish, heartless bitch who thought she could manipulate people into bending to her will, and failing that, order them to do it. She glanced at Cullen, looking so fragile and pale against his bedsheets and Eala’s eyes blazed as she turned back to the Inquisitor.

“No! I will not give him lyrium. Now, or at any other time!”

“Impudent girl!” the Inquisitor snapped, tossing back her mane of white blond hair. “ You dare to defy my orders? I could have you clapped in irons and taken to the dungeons!”

“I don’t think so,” Eala said, anger and concern for the Commander giving her courage. “I am head healer, and I decide what treatments are appropriate. Not you.”

Dorian sighed. “She’s right, Lysarah.” He stepped back toward the ladder. ”Now, come, my dear. Let’s leave her to tend to the Commander and go have a drink. I’m sure Varric can entertain us with another outrageous story or three.”

“This is not the end. I’ll talk to him when he wakes up. He’ll see reason, even if you won’t!” The Inquisitor turned around and stalked to the ladder, sliding down with an angry thump when she landed on the floor below.

“Sorry for that, my dear,” said Dorian with a rueful grimace. “ I had better go calm her down.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Eala shrugged her shoulders and checked on the cloth over the Commander’s brow. She glared in the direction the Inquisitor had gone. “That woman will not hurt him anymore.”

 “How…is he?”

“He woke for a short time, but he was hardly lucid. “ She sighed. “Only time will tell now whether he lives, dies, or loses his mind. He appears to be sleeping now, however, so that’s encouraging.”

Dorian stepped closer and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be alright, sweetie. He’s a strong man, our Commander.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t give up hope.”

She smiled tremulously at him, covering his hand with her own. “Thank you, Dorian.”

“Yes, I know: I am fabulous, aren’t I?” He stepped back and smoothed his mustache. “Take care of that man of yours. I’ll see you later.”

 

* * *

 

A hand carding through her hair and the morning light spilling from the hole in Cullen’s roof warming her closed lids woke her. She opened sleepy eyes to peer into twin golden orbs. She popped up, dislodging his hand from where it had been brushing back the curls that had come loose from her braid in the night.

“Cullen?” Her chest tightened, and her heart pounded fiercely, knocking against her ribs. What if he was not himself? What if the lyrium withdrawal had stolen him away? Tears pricked her lashes as she reached out to touch his stubbled cheek.

“Eala,” he croaked, his voice rough from disuse. “I — how — how long have I been out?”

“Three days.” She felt his forehead; it was cool to the touch. “How do you feel?”

He grimaced and touched his forehead. “Better than I was, but I still have that bloody headache. It’s just under my senses right now, but I know the minute I start moving around, it will claim me once again.”

She frowned. “How long have you had this headache?”

Cullen looked away. “I don’t quite know — days, a week, perhaps.” He turned back to regard her with sad golden eyes. “I’ll be fine now, Eala. You — you need not stay.”

Eala placed her hands on her hips and glared down at the blond in the bed. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford, you’ve nearly worked yourself to death and have refused care — so, no, I am not leaving until I am satisfied that you are properly on the mend!”

He sighed. “Eala, I know that it is — difficult — for you to see me. I would not cause you further distress.”

Old feelings of inadequacy tumbled free, and her eyes dropped to the sheets.  “Would — would you rather I go?”

“Maker’s breath, no!” he rejoined quickly and his eyes locked with hers. “I am only thinking of you. The — um — last time we spoke, you made it rather clear that you wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Oh, Cullen,” she sat on the edge of the bed and took one of his hands in hers. Tracing the veins on the back of it, she continued, “I was very angry with you when I said those words. I — I’m still not sure what happened between you and the Inquisitor, but I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt — and I want to care for you since you can’t be arsed to do it for yourself.”

A huge sigh left him then as he pulled her down into his arms. Burying his face in her neck, he murmured “Thanks be to the Maker!”

She let him hold her for a while, relishing the feel of his muscular body pressed against hers. It felt good. It felt right. It felt like where she belonged. Finally, however, she pulled away, resisting his little whine of protest.

“I have something that might help your headache,” she said as she reached into her bag and pulled out the box of runes Dagna had made.

Cullen raised an eyebrow as he lifted his head to look at the box. “What’s that?”

“Something that I was going to surprise you with on the day of our incident.” She set the box on his nightstand and opened it to reveal 10 small black runestones resting on a bed of dark blue ring velvet. Each rune was engraved with a symbol in gold.  “It’s an ancient Tevinter remedy that Dorian and I discovered. We had Dagna make these, and now we are going to try them.”

Cullen’s brow pinched. “Is — is that wise? I’m not sure that I —“

“Cullen. With these runes, it may be possible for you to recover faster from your episodes. How would you like that headache to leave you for the first time in days?”

He sat up slowly and picked up the box to examine the runes, one finger tracing the gold markings on each of the smooth, flat surfaces. He looked up at Eala and handed her the box. “I trust you,” he said after a minute’s consideration.

Eala exhaled a relieved breath, unaware that she’d been holding it. “Alright, Commander, turn on your stomach,” she instructed, circling the bed to retrieve the oakmoss and elderflower liniment from the small medicine chest.

Stretched out on his front with his arms bent and resting on either side of his head, palms flat, head turned to one side, Cullen displayed his broad back for her. She inhaled a sharp breath. While he was paler and thinner, he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Holding the jar of liniment, she straddled his naked hips, very aware of the moisture at the apex of her thighs.

_Show restraint, Eala. He’s still a very sick man._

“Mm, I have missed this,” he told her as she started smoothing the thick cream over his back. “It feels so bloody good…” his voice trailed off into a wordless hum of pleasure.

“Well.” She finished massaging the liniment into his skin and reached for the box of runes and a set of matches. “From what I read, these runes should feel quite good as well.”

He opened the one eye she could see and raised his eyebrow. “I doubt they shall feel as good as your hands, sweetling, but you think they can help, so I’m open to it.”

“Just wait,” she promised, before striking a match. The flint caught, and the matchhead burst into a tiny flame. Carefully, she picked up one of the runes and held it over the flame. After a couple of seconds, the carved golden symbol began to glow with an eerie orange light. She quickly laid it on the join between his neck and his left shoulder, gasping as she felt the tug of a gentle suction as the tiny device stuck to the Commander’s skin.

A half-smile pulled at the corner of Cullen’s lips. “Hmm. That feels nice...like a sun-warmed stone.”

“I told you,” she said archly, unable to hide her satisfied grin.

Five minutes later, she had all of the runes laid out on his back, mostly in a line along either side of his spine, one on each of his shoulder blades and on the sides of his back. His skin reddened around each rune, indicating an increased blood flow to the area.

Eala curled up beside him and ran her fingers through his blond locks, keenly watching the expression on his face for any signs of discomfort. After about 10 minutes, Cullen released a long sigh, his entire body visibly relaxing.

“Maker,” he said, surprise in his voice. “My headache — it’s gone!”

Sitting up, she checked on the runes. The markings’ orange glow was fading. She tugged on one, and it came away from Cullen’s skin with a soft pop, leaving a white area in its shape surrounded by pinked flesh.

“Interesting,” she mused as she removed the others one by one, each releasing with a pop similar to the first. Once all of them were removed, Cullen flopped over on his back and looked at her with a soft expression on his face, his lips curved upward. Her heart swelled, threatening to choke off her breath. He was looking at her with that look he reserved just for her.

“Thank you for caring for me, my love,” he said, taking one of her hands and pressing a kiss into her palm.

She leaned down and kissed his lips. “Do you think you could eat something?”

He thought for a moment before answering “Yes, I am a bit hungry.”

“I’ll bring you something light — some broth perhaps, and a slice or two of freshly baked bread with some butter?” She stood up and straightened her blouse.

“That sounds perfect,” he said, his eyes closing as he stretched his body, sending muscles rippling across his abdomen and chest.

She swallowed as her throat dried, battling the urge to jump on him and kiss every inch of that magnificent body. There will be time for that later: he was hers and no one else’s. But right now, she needed to feed her lion.

“I’ll be back soon,” she told him before sliding down the ladder and bouncing across his office and out the door. As she made her way to the kitchens, she caught herself humming a tune and smiling.

 

* * *

 

Over the next week, Cullen slowly gained his strength back, and as he did so, it became harder and harder to keep him in bed.

“But I’m fine,” he grumbled to Eala on the fifth morning after he awoke from his collapse. “I have work to do, and the sooner I get back to it the better.”

She sighed, throwing him an exasperated look. “You’ve only just started recovering. I don’t want you to overtax yourself and have a relapse.”

“Nonsense. At least let me sit at my desk and get some paperwork done. I’m certain that it’s covered with stacks of it by now.”

‘A compromise,” she suggested. “ I shall bring you up some paperwork, but,” she raised up a warning finger. “ You will do it in bed — that’s final, Commander!”

He stuck out his lower lip and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine,” he growled. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Since you decided to be a dunce about taking care of yourself, you foolish man.”

He harrumphed but said nothing further. Instead, he dropped his arms and patted the sheets beside him, giving her one of his patented smirks. “Before you run off for that paperwork, why don’t you come and sit here for a moment. I have something to tell you.”

Nonplussed, Eala sat where he indicated, but immediately shrieked when he tugged her into his arms,  lifting her to sit on his lap facing him. “Cullen! Stop it! You’ll hurt yoursl—“ her words were muffled by his kiss. One hand twined in her hair while the other one ran up and down her back, causing tingles to race up and down her spine as his lips plied hers.

They sat like that for several long moments, exchanging increasingly heated kisses, hands touching wherever they could. Eala was drowning in the scent of elderflower and oakmoss and the taste of peppermint on his breath. His lips were soft against hers, contrasting with the rough texture of his tongue as it explored her mouth. She rubbed her own tongue against his, drawing a  soft moan from him.

Then, just as suddenly as his assault started, it ended. He disengaged his mouth from hers and pushed her back, panting hard, his lids heavy over lust-blown pupils. She just stared at him, unsure of what just happened. Then, he smirked and slapped her ass with one palm.

“Go fetch my paperwork, woman, before I forget that I am supposed to be convalescing.”

She giggled and smacked his chest as she clambered to her feet. “You are a very naughty patient, Commander,” she scolded without heat before heading downstairs to get the man his paperwork.

 

* * *

 

“Are you ready to listen to me now, Cullen?” A dulcet-toned female voice reached Eala’s ears as she scaled the ladder to their loft.

When she cleared the edge of the loft, she was surprised to find the Inquisitor seated on the edge of his bed earnestly looking him in the eyes. In the light coming through the roof, her white-blond hair appeared as a halo around her head, and the low-cut leather vest and pants ensemble she wore showed off her svelte figure to perfection. Eala’s hands fisted at her sides, and she narrowed her eyes at the pair.

What was that woman even doing here? And why had Cullen allowed her to stay, much less take such an intimate seat beside him?

But Cullen looked away when he heard her coming up the ladder, and when his eyes alighted on Eala, his face split in a  soft smile that shone with so much love and gladness that it burned away her jealousy and hurt. A giddy happiness surged through her as she strode confidently to her lover’s side.

Noticing where his eyes had traveled, the Inquisitor turned and leveled a glare at Eala.

“You!” Venom filled the single word. “Leave us! We have important Inquisition matters to discuss.”

Holding out a hand to Eala, Cullen frowned at the elven woman. “Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of this beautiful creature. She’s soon to be my wife, after all.”

“What?” the Inquisitor shrieked as Eala calmly took her place beside Cullen,  schooling her features to keep her own surprise to herself.

“Well,” Cullen’s cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink. “I haven’t quite asked her yet, but I am hoping to do so soon.” He looked up at the dark-haired woman and gave her a reassuring smile. “ I hope that her answer is yes when I do ask.”

“But,” the Inquisitor spluttered,”y-you can’t. We’re at war, and I need you to…”

His features hardened, a scowl deepening the lines on his forehead and between his brows. “Need me to what, Lysarah? Be at your constant beck and call? Parade me around like a prized stallion to your new noble friends at Court?” Anger thickened his voice on his next words. “Enslave me to lyrium yet again so that you can have your perfect Commander at your side?” He wrapped an arm around Eala’s shoulders and tightened his jaw. “With all due respect, Inquisitor, I will not take the lyrium, whatever the cost. I’ve too much to live for now, should we survive this war. Replace me as Commander if you choose, but know that my men are loyal to me and I know how to get the best out of them.”

The Inquisitor’s eyes blazed with rage as she stood. “Our loss to Corypheus be on your head, then, _Commander_. Your weakness will doom us all.”

Eala rose to her feet. “He’s not weak! Don’t you dare call him that! Do you not see how hard he works? He nearly killed himself for your cause!”

The blond elf rolled her eyes. “Spare me your pathetic drivel. I would have made him strong. “ Her eyes turned to Cullen, their icy blue depths seeming to plead with him. “We could still be together, Cullen. You and me. Let me make you into the man you always should have been.“

The muscle clenching in his jaw portended the oncoming explosion of temper.“Enough!” Cullen bellowed, the corded sinews of his throat standing out. “There is no ‘you and me, ’ and there hasn’t been for a very long time, despite your machinations. Think you that I do not remember when you rendered me half-mad with lyrium fumes so that you could climb into my lap and ply your wiles on me untrammeled?”

“I did it for the Inquisition.” Eala’s mouth fell at the elf’s admission. She looked at Cullen with a new understanding; he had been telling the truth from the beginning.

Cullen’s sigh was tired. “No, Lysarah. You did it for yourself.” He ran a hand down his face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, this conversation has rather left me exhausted, and I feel a headache coming on.”

The Inquisitor turned an icy stare on Eala. “This is your doing. Be certain that I won’t forget it.”

“And she has my protection,” growled Cullen in response. “Do not forget that.”

 

* * *

 

During the following two weeks, Cullen returned to his full duties and training. Eala watched him spar with his men and with other Inquisition members, such as Cassandra and Iron Bull, delighting in the way the sun darkened his pale skin to that lovely rose-gold shade she remembered, and the return of ruddy color to his handsome cheeks and nose. Under Eala’s care, he ate prodigiously and regained the weight he had lost during his ordeal, filling out gaunt cheeks and bulking up his muscles until he was once again the golden god she had met in Haven.

Today, his sparring partner was Blackwall. The two men circled each other, shirts off in deference to the hot afternoon sun. Her eyes were glued to the blond Commander as he danced around the ring. His muscles shifted under his skin as he swung his practice sword at his opponent, landing a blow under the other’s shield while effortlessly blocking with his own.

The Warden rejoined with a smashing blow that drove Cullen back a few steps, but the blond recovered quickly and was on the offense again. Cullen had not broached the subject of marrying her yet, despite his words to the Inquisitor. She gasped when Blackwall got a good hit to Cullen’s ribcage. The Commander grinned at the other man, shouting something that Eala could not quite catch, but Blackwall gave a hearty laugh as he met Cullen’s strike with an upswing of his own sword.

Stepping closer to the ring, she stood on the second rung of the fence to get a better view of the fight. Perhaps he hadn’t been serious or had only said it to get under the Inquisitor’s skin. Eala sighed as she watched Cullen neatly deflect the other soldier’s attempts to knock him down, his muscles glistening with sweat. She shrugged her weak concern off, buoyant happiness surging in her chest. Whether he asked her to marry him or not, she had her Commander back again, and for now, it was more than enough for her. More than she had ever expected.

Eala found herself shouting her glee with the other spectators when Cullen put Blackwall on his back, standing over him with the point of his blade at his throat. The dark-haired warrior nodded as Cullen helped him to his feet and the two exchanged claps on the back. Tossing his practice gear to a waiting soldier, he glanced toward the fence. A broad grin split his face when he saw her. He gave the older man one last clap on the shoulder before loping in her direction.

“Well, well,” he said as he stopped in front of her, standing tall and easy on the other side of the short fence. Planting one foot on the bottom slat, he reached into the pocket of his breeches to pull out a handkerchief. She plucked it from his fingers and reached up to wipe the sweat from his face. Even standing inches off the ground, she still had to raise herself on tiptoes to reach his face. He raised an eyebrow and bent to accommodate her.“Look who came to watch me spar,” he continued. “If this is going to be a regular occurrence, I just might allow Varric to take bets on the winner. I know I’ll easily make a few sovereigns if you are there rooting for me.”

She returned his handkerchief to him and pulled back to eye him critically. “How are you feeling? Are you sore? How’s your head?”

“I’m fine, my little worrywart. Nothing beyond a few simple aches that I am certain your hands can dispel quite handily.” He leaned down and kissed her, his hands sliding into her hair. His lips brushed against hers once, twice before he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer despite the fact that the fence remained between them.

Heat bloomed within her as his mouth claimed hers, reminding her of what he could do to her body. They had yet to resume intimacy between them even though Eala had moved back into his tower full-time and they shared a bed. She had been worried that the exertion of lovemaking would be too much for him. Now, as his hot tongue dragged against hers and one hand held her head firm while the other drifted down to her back to press her into the wood as if he could pull her through it, she realized that she needed to have him now, needed to feel him inside her as much as she needed air to breathe.

“Cullen,” she whispered when he released her lips to rest his forehead on hers, panting harshly. She ran her hands through his blond hair. “Make me yours.”

He pulled back to stare down at her with eyes gone black with lust. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

She squawked as he plucked her off her feet and hoisted her into his arms like she weighed nothing. Wrapping her arms around his powerful neck and her legs around his waist, she felt his muscles contract as he easily vaulted over the fence.

“Cullen, you can put me down. You’ll hurt yourself — I’m not light.”

He caught her gaze and smirked. “Hush, you. From my perspective, you’re a tiny thing that hardly weighs aught.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled into his arms for the trip to their quarters.

“And I saw that, minx. You’ll answer to your Commander for that later.”

“I am counting on it,” she said, giggling happily into his neck.

 

* * *

 

  
 

Up in their loft, he dropped her on the bed and crawled on top of her, balancing his weight on his forearms. He dropped his head to kiss her, his lips soft and pliant on hers. He sucked on her upper lip, tugging it gently as he brought one hand down to cup one of her breasts. He groaned into her mouth as he tried to tug her neckline down so that he could touch her naked flesh.

“You are wearing too many clothes, woman,” he growled, plucking at the fabric of her dress.

She lay back on the bed. “Well, then, Ser, you’ll have to remove them, won’t you?”

“Oh, you’re sassy today, aren’t you? Well, remember that you asked for this, minx.” He knelt over her and ripped the buttons of her dress open, sending them sailing across the room to land in little plinks and plops on the wooden floor. Her breastband and smallclothes met with a similar fate, and soon she lay completely bare beneath him.

As his eyes feasted on her naked body, she no longer felt any shame. The way his rapt gaze traveled over her form told her more than any words he could ever say how beautiful he found her and how much he desired her.

Lowering himself, he trailed kisses down her neck, across her chest, and over each breast. He took each nipple in his mouth in turn and worshiped them, drawing moans and sighs out of her as his hand slid between her legs and his fingers found her clit. Little flicks of his finger had her grinding up into his hand in moments. She gave a whine of protest when he stopped everything to look down at her with passion-darkened eyes, mouth slightly open.

“You have no idea how much I need you. How much I want you. How much I’ve missed this.” His mouth dragged over her plump abdomen, his teeth nibbling her flesh. Her breath hitched, and she shivered with carnal delight.

“Me too,” she told him, burying her fingers in his short blond hair.

“You like this, don’t you, sweetling?” He flicked his thumb over her clit, sending a wave of pleasure coursing up from her core.

“Yes,” the word was a drawn-out hiss, her hips bucking against his fingers.

“So greedy, my love,” he purred, “but I don’t think I’m ready to let you come just yet. We’ve so much time to make up for, don’t you agree?” He withdrew his fingers and stood to remove his pants and smallclothes. Her eyes roamed over his muscular body, dropping to take in his magnificent cock standing at attention and pointing up toward his taut abdomen. Clear fluid leaked from its purple head, so copious that it dripped down his shaft in thick skeins.

He stood there, stroking himself as he watched her, the gold of his irises completely overtaken by the black of his pupils, his lips parted. His testicles rode low and heavy amid a nest of blond curls that crawled up his groin and lower abdomen, thinning out into a narrow trail near his navel. They jiggled with every stroke of his hand. A flood of wetness soaked her; he was so handsome, so primal, so very male.

“Part those lovely legs,” he growled. “Let me see how wet you are for me.”

Obeying him without question, she spread her thighs further apart, revealing her moist nether lips to his hungry gaze.

“Oh, sweetheart, look at you: you’re drenched. “  He reached out to drag a finger across her entrance, picking up some of her cream and bringing it to his lips. His eyes still locked on hers, he proceeded to lick it clean. “Mmm,” he hummed. “So delicious. But that’s for later.”

He rejoined her on the bed, covering her with his body as his lips found hers again with wet, open-mouthed kisses. His mouth dragged on hers, his kisses frenzied and messy, and she returned them in full favor. After so much time apart, they could not get enough of each other He lifted her legs and urged her to wrap them around his middle as he pressed himself against her.

The scarred corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk as he rubbed the head of his cock across and around her entrance, teasing her. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against him as she keened and moaned in desperation for him to plunge into her, to fill her up, to take her and use her body for his pleasure.

“Please,” she begged him, unsuccessfully trying to push herself on him. “Cullen, oh please!”

“Please what?” He arched an eyebrow as he rolled his hips, perilously close to sheathing himself in her, but still too far away. “You have to tell me exactly what you want, sweetling.”

“Please take me, Cullen,” she nearly sobbed, tossing her head on the covers.

“I aim to please,” he said through gritted teeth as he drove himself into her, hilting himself in one stroke. She cried out as he filled her, stretching her to her limits. He remained still, his eyes closed as an intense look of pain mixed with pleasure crossed his face.

She watched him reverently as at long last he started to move, observing the way his jaw clenched as he bit his lip and his brow furrowed in concentration. Sweat covered his forehead, some of it dripping down onto her face as he rolled his hips, carrying himself into and out of her.

How she loved the way, he looked when he was driving into her. The pleasure of watching her cool and controlled Commander coming undone before her eyes and the sensations of his cock coming in contact with her clit with every forward thrust brought her to her end just before his hips start to stutter and the cords and tendons of his body stood out in high relief. His own orgasm followed soon after, his seed spilling inside her.

He roared as he came, his voice joining her own cries of his name over and over again. She rode her orgasm out pressed against his big body, enjoying the shudders and jolts it made as he came down off his high.

“Eala,” he said as he collapsed beside her, drawing her into his arms and burying his face in her hair. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too, dear Ser,” she returned, snuggling against him, enjoying the cool breeze ghosting over their overheated bodies from the hole in the roof above them.

Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms for a long while, sometimes dozing, rousing each other with soft kisses and gentle caresses, sometimes talking, but mostly just enjoying being in each other’s company.

After a while, Cullen suddenly sat up with a grunt. He drew his brows together in thought and reached across her to his nightstand.

‘What are you doing?” Her voice was muffled by his muscular chest as he leaned over her to reach into his nightstand drawer. He pulled something out and sat back, concealing it in the palm of his hand. “What do you have there?” She tried to see inside his palm, but his broad hand and thick fingers completely covered whatever it was.

His eyes caught hers, and he regarded her seriously. “Eala, I have something to ask you,” he said solemnly. Her breath caught. Was he going to do what she thought he was going to do? Anticipation danced across her spine as she waited for him say his piece.

He opened his palm, and in it sat a small box. He opened it to reveal a silverite ring with a large diamond in the center. Eala clapped her hand to her mouth, gasping as he clambered off the bed and knelt on the floor. She turned toward him, sitting on the edge of the bed, her heart thrumming like a hummingbird in her chest.

He formally offered her the ring, holding out the tiny box. “Eala, my love,” his voice quavered with nervousness, so unlike the confident Commander he usually was. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He shifted his gaze away from her before returning to her face. “ I know I — I haven’t much beyond my love and devotion to offer, but I promise to work hard to build a future for us, no matter what it holds.”

Maker, was he afraid she would say no? The truth of it presented itself in his trembling hands and in the shine of tears in his golden eyes.

“Yes, Cullen, I will marry you,” she said with equal solemnity, her own tears streaming down her cheeks.

His eyes closed and she thought she heard him murmur “Maker, thank you,” before his trembling hands removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. His own cheeks were wet as he drew her into his arms and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair.

“I love you, Eala. Thank you for making me the happiest man in Thedas,” his voice was hoarse as he said this into her hair, his big body shaking in her arms. “Maker, I never thought —“ she felt his hard swallow “— anything like this was possible.”

“Oh, Cullen, I love you, too.” she leaned back to look into his eyes. “You are my golden Fereldan Knight — a man who is beautiful inside and out — and you have made me the happiest woman in Thedas.”

And as he bore her down on the bed again, covering her with kisses, she stared at the ring on her left hand.  An enormous wave of love washed over her as she realized that he must have had it made before they separated — a long time before that. He’d been planning on asking her to marry him all along.

Holding him close, she returned his kisses and stroked him the way he liked, intent on showing him just how much she loved him and how lucky she felt to be his chosen bride. She would take care of him for always and forever, showering him with the love and tenderness he deserved, her handsome Lion of Honnleath.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for taking the time to read my stupid story. I'm on Tumblr at windysupirations.tumblr.com if you want to follow me there.


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